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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 


PRESENTED  BY 

PROF.  CHARLES  A.  KOFOID  AND 

MRS.  PRUDENCE  W.  KOFOID 


BANNERTAIL 

THE  STORY  OF  A  GRAY  SQUIRREL 


A 


^*>a 


t^^  CL_J  i  iSs 


I 


'  h 


THE    STORY  OF 

AGRAYSQUIRREL  %  r 


With  100  Drawings 
by 

Ernest  Thomfison  Seton 

-/HutVior   of 

Wild  Animals  I  have  Known 
Trail  of  the  Sandhill  Sta^ 
Biography  of  a  Grizzlu 
Lives  of  the  hunted 
Monarch  The  Big  Bear 

Neu;  york. 

Charles  Scribner's  Sons 


Copyright,  1922,  bv 
ERNEST  THOMPSON   SETON 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


FOREWORD 

These  are  the  ideas  that  I  have  aimed  to 
set  forth  in  this  tale. 

1st.  That  although  an  animal  is  much 
helped  hy  its  mothers  teaching,  it  owes  still 
more  to  the  racial  teaching,  which  is  in- 
stinct, and  can  make  a  success  oj  life  with- 
out its  mother's  guidance,  ij  only  it  can  live 
through  the  dangerous  time  oj  infancy  and 

early  life. 

2d.  Animals  often  are  tempted  into  im- 
morality—by  which  I  mean,  any  habit  or 
practice  that  would  in  its  final  working, 
tend  to  destroy  the  race.  Nature  has  rigor- 
ous ways  of  dealing  with  such. 

3d.  Animals,  like  ourselves,  must  main- 
[v] 


ivi362Gg8 


Foreword 

tain  ceaseless  war  against  insect  parasites — 
or  perish. 

4th.  In  the  nut  forests  oj  America,  prac- 
tically every  tree  was  planted  by  the  Gray- 
squirrel,  or  its  kin.  No  squirrels,  no  nut- 
trees. 

These  are  the  motive  thoughts  behind  my 
woodland  novel.  I  hope  I  have  presented 
them  convincingly ;  if  not,  I  hope  at  least 
you  have  been  entertained  by  the  romance. 


[vi] 


CONTENTS 

Chapter  Page 

I.     The  Foundling      1 

II.     His  Kittenhood 9 

III.  The  Red  Horror 15 

IV.  The  New  and  Lonely  Life 19 

V.     The  Fluffing  of  His  Tail 25 

VI.     The  First  Nut  Crop 31 

VII.     The  Sun  Song  of  Bannertail 39 

VIII.     The  Cold  Sleep      49 

IX.     The  Balking  of  Fire-eyes 57 

X.     Redsquirrel,  the  Scold  of  the  Woods    .    .  65 

XI.     Bannertail  and  the  Echo  Voice      ....  71 

XII.     The  Courting  of  Silvergray 77 

XIII.  The  Home  in  the  High  Hickory    ....  85 

XIV.  New  Rivals 91 

vii 


Contents 

Chapter  Page 

XV.  Bachelor  Life  Again 97 

XVI.  The  Warden  Meets  an  Invader      .    .  103 

XVII.  The  Hoodoo  on  the  Home      ....  109 

XVIII.  The  New  Home 117 

XIX.  The  Moving  of  the  Young      ....  125 

XX.  The  Coming-out  Party 135 

XXI.  Nursery  Days  of  the  Young  Ones     .  141 

XXII.  Cray  Hunts  for  Trouble      147 

XXIII.  The  Little  Squirrels  Go  to  School     .  151 

XXIV.  The  Lopping  of  the  Wayward  Branch  157 
XXV.  Bannertail  Falls  into  a  Snare      ...  163 

XXVI.  The  Addict 173 

XXVII.  The  Dregs  of  the  Cup 181 

XXVIII.  The  Way  of  Destruction 185 

XXIX.  Mother  Carey's  Lash 191 

XXX.  His  Awakening 199 

XXXI.  The  Unwritten  Law 205 

viii 


Contents 

Chapter  Page 

XXXII.     Squirrel  Games 213 

XXXIII.  When   Bannertail   Was   Scarred   for 

Life 221 

XXXIV.  The  Fight  with  the  Black  Demon     .  229 
XXXV.     The  Property  Law  among  Animals   .  243 

XXXVI.     Gathering  the  Great  Nut  Harvest     .  251 

XXXVII.     And  To-day 261 


IX 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

Facing  Page 

His  kittenhood 12 

Baffling  Fire-eyes 60 

They  twiddled  whiskers  good  night 82 

With  an  angry  "Quare!"  Silvergray  scrambled 


up  again 


130 


The  little  squirrels  at  school 154 

Cray  sank  —  a  victim  to  his  folly 160 

A  dangerous  game 226 

The  battle  with  the  Blacksnake      238 


THE  FOUNDLING 


CHAPTER  I 
THE   FOUNDLING 

fT  was  a  rugged  old  tree 
standing  sturdy  and  big 
among  the  slender  second- 
growth.  The  woodmen  had 
spared  it  because  it  was 
too  gnarled  and  too  difficult  for  them  to 
handle.  But  the  Woodpecker,  and  a  host 
of  wood-folk  that  look  to  the  Woodpecker 
for  lodgings,  had  marked  and  used  it  for 
many  years.  Its  every  cranny  and  bore- 
hole was  inhabited  by  some  quaint  elfin 
of  the  woods;  the  biggest  hollow  of  all, 
just  below  the  first  limb,  had  done  duty 
for  two  families  of  the  Flickers  who  first 
made  it,  and  now  was  the  homing  hole  of 
a  mother  Graysquirrel. 
[3] 


Bannertail 


//"^^^ 


^<^f^^W 


She  appeared  to  have  no  mate ;  at  least 
none  was  seen.  No  doubt  the  outlaw 
gunners  could  have  told  a  tale,  had  they 
cared  to  admit  that  they  went  gunning 
in  springtime;  and  now  the  widow  was 
doing  the  best  she  could  by  her  family  in 
the  big  gnarled  tree.  All  went  well  for  a 
while,  then  one  day,  in  haste  maybe, 
she  broke  an  old  rule  in  Squirreldom; 
she  climbed  her  nesting  tree  openly,  in- 
stead of  going  up  its  neighbor,  and  then 
crossing  to  the  den  by  way  of  the  over- 
head branches.  The  farm  boy  who  saw 
it,  gave  a  little  yelp  of  savage  triumph; 
his  caveman  nature  broke  out.  Clubs 
and  stones  were  lying  near,  the  whirling 
end  of  a  stick  picked  off  the  mother  Squir- 
rel as  she  tried  to  escape  with  a  little  one 
in  her  mouth.  Had  he  killed  two  dan- 
gerous enemies  the  boy  could  not  have 
yelled  louder.  Then  up  the  tree  he 
climbed  and  found  in  the  nest  two  living 
[4] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

young  ones.  With  these  in  his  pocket  he 
descended.  When  on  the  ground  he 
found  that  one  was  dead,  crushed  in 
cHmbing  down.  Thus  only  one  Httle 
Squirrel  was  left  alive,  only  one  of  the 
family  that  he  had  seen,  the  harmless 
mother  and  two  helpless,  harmless  little 
ones  dead  in  his  hands. 

Why?  What  good  did  it  do  him  to 
destroy  all  this  beautiful  wild  life?  He 
did  not  know.  He  did  not  think  of  it 
at  all.  He  had  yielded  only  to  the  wild 
ancestral  instinct  to  kill,  when  came  a 
chance  to  kill,  for  we  must  remember 
that  when  that  instinct  was  implanted, 
wild  animals  were  either  terrible  enemies 
or  food  that  must  be  got  at  any  price. 

The  excitement  over,  the  boy  looked 
at  the  helpless  squirming  thing  in  his 
hand,  and  a  surge  of  remorse  came  on 
him.  He  could  not  feed  it;  it  must  die 
of  hunger.     He  wished  that  he  knew  of 

[51 


Bannertail 

some  other  nest  into  which  he  might  put 
it.  He  drifted  back  to  the  barn.  The 
mew  of  a  young  Kitten  caught  his  ear. 
He  went  to  the  manger.  Here  was  the 
old  Cat  with  the  one  Kitten  that  had 
been  left  her  of  her  brood  born  two  days 
back.  Remembrance  of  many  Field-mice, 
Chipmunks  and  some  Squirrels  killed  by 
that  old  green-eyed  huntress,  struck  a 
painful  note.  Yes  !  No  matter  what  he 
did,  the  old  Cat  would  surely  get,  kill, 
and  eat  the  orphan  Squirrel. 

Then  he  yielded  to  a  sudden  impulse 
and  said:  "Here  it  is,  eat  it  now."  He 
dropped  the  little  stranger  into  the  nest 
beside  the  Kitten.  The  Cat  turned  to- 
ward it,  smelled  it  suspiciously  once  or 
twice,  then  licked  its  back,  picked  it  up  in 
her  mouth,  and  tucked  it  under  her  arm, 
where  half  an  hour  later  the  boy  found 
it  taking  dinner  alongside  its  new-found 
foster-brother,   while   the    motherly  old 

[6] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

Cat  leaned  back  with  chin  in  air,  half- 
closed  eyes  and  purring  the  happy,  con- 
tented purr  of  mother  pride.  Now,  in- 
deed, the  future  of  the  Foundling  was 
assured. 


[7] 


HIS  KITTENHOOD 


CHAPTER   II 
HIS   KITTENHOOD 

%^^^A^^^ITTLE  Graycoat  developed 
'^  ^#:^^  much  faster  than  his  Kitten 
]t§?|^J  foster-brother.  The  spirit  of 
play  was  rampant  in  him,  he 
would  scramble  up  his  moth- 
er's leg  a  score  of  times  a  day,  clinging  on 
with  teeth,  arms  and  claws,  then  mount 
her  back  and  frisk  along  to  climb  her  up- 
right tail;  and  when  his  weight  was  too 
much,  down  the  tail  would  droop,  and  he 
would  go  merrily  sliding  off  the  tip  to 
rush  to  her  legs  and  climb  and  toboggan 
off  again.  The  Kitten  never  learned  the 
trick.  But  it  seemed  to  amuse  the  Cat 
almost  as  much  as  it  did  the  Squirrelet, 
and   she   showed   an   amazing   partiality 

[11] 


Banner  tail 

for  the  lively,  long-tailed  Foundling.  So 
did  others  of  importance,  men  and  women 
folk  of  the  farmhouse,  and  neighbors 
too.  The  frisky  Graycoat  grew  up  amid 
experiences  foreign  to  his  tastes,  and  of  a 
kind  unknown  to  his  race. 

The  Kitten  too  grew  up,  and  in  mid- 
summer was  carried  off  to  a  distant  farm- 
house to  be  ''their  cat." 

Now  the  Squirrel  was  over  half-grown, 
and  his  tail  was  broadening  out  into  a 
great  banner  of  buff  with  silver  tips. 
His  life  was  with  the  old  Cat;  his  food 
was  partly  from  her  dish.  But  many 
things  there  were  to  eat  that  delighted 
/j.""^  him,  and  that  pleased  her  not.     There 

was  corn  in  the  bam,  and  chicken-feed 
in  the  yard,  and  fruit  in  the  garden. 
Well-fed  and  protected,  he  grew  big  and 
handsome,  bigger  and  handsomer  than 
his  wild  brothers,  so  the  house-folk  said. 
But  of  that  he  knew  nothing ;  he  had  never 

[12] 


/JP 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

seen  his  own  people.  The  memory  of  his 
mother  had  faded  out.  So  far  as  he 
knew,  he  was  only  a  bushy-tailed  Cat. 
But  inside  was  an  inheritance  of  instincts, 
as  well  as  of  blood  and  bone,  that  would 
surely  take  control  and  send  him  herding, 
if  they  happened  near,  with  those  and 
those  alone  of  the  blowsy  silver  tails. 


[13] 


THE  RED  HORROR 


CHAPTER   III 
TPIE   RED   HORROR 

'  N  the  Hunting-moon  it  came, 
just  when  the  com  begins 
to  turn,  and  in  the  dawn, 
when  Bannertail  Graycoat 
was  yielding  to  the  thrill 
that  comes  with  action,  youth  and  life, 
in  dew-time. 

There  was  a  growing,  murmuring  sound, 
then  smoke  from  the  bam,  like  that  he 
had  seen  coming  from  the  red  mystery  in 
the  cook-house.  But  this  grew  very  fast 
and  huge;  men  came  running,  horses  fran- 
tically plunging  hurried  out,  and  other 
living  things  and  doings  that  he  did  not 
understand.  Then  when  the  sun  was 
high  a  blackened  smoking  pile  there  was 
f  17  1 


/ 


fe/C' 


Bannertail 

where  once  had  stood  the  dear  old  barn; 
and  a  new  strange  feeling  over  all.  The 
old  Cat  disappeared.  A  few  days  more 
and  the  house -folk,  too,  were  gone.  The 
place  was  deserted,  himself  a  wildwood 
roving  Squirrel,  quite  alone,  without  a 
trace  of  Squirrel  training,  such  as  exam- 
ple of  the  old  ones  gives,  unequipped, 
unaccompanied,  unprepared  for  the  life- 
fight,  except  that  he  had  a  perfect  body, 
and  in  his  soul  enthroned,  the  many  deep 
and  dominating  instincts  of  his  race. 


[18] 


THE  NEW  AND  LONELY  LIFE 


CHAPTER   IV 
THE   NEW  AND   LONELY   LIFE 

HE  break  was  made  com- 
plete by  the  Red  Horror, 
and  the  going  of  the  man- 
people.  Fences  and  build- 
ings are  good  for  some 
things,  but  the  tall  timber  of  the  distant 
wooded  hill  was  calling  to  him  and  though 
he  came  back  many  a  time  to  the  garden 
while  there  yet  was  fruit,  and  to  the  field 
while  the  corn  was  standing,  he  was  ever 
more  in  the  timber  and  less  in  the  open. 
Food  there  was  in  abundance  now,  for 
it  was  early  autumn;  and  who  was  to  be 
his  guide  in  this:  "What  to  eat,  what  to 
let  alone?"  These  two  guides  he  had, 
and   they  proved   enough:    instinct,  the 

[21] 


Bannertail 


wisdom  inherited  from  his  forebears,  and 
his  keen,  discriminating  nose. 

Scrambling  up  a  rotten  stub  one  day, 
a  flake  of  bark  fell  off,  and  here  a-row 
were  three  white  grubs;  fat,  rounded, 
juicy.  It  was  instinct  bade  him  seize 
them,  and  it  was  smell  that  justified  the 
order;  then  which,  it  is  hard  to  say,  told 
him  to  reject  the  strong  brown  nippers 
at  one  end  of  each  prize.  That  day  he 
learned  to  pry  off  flakes  of  bark  for  the 
rich  foodstuffs  lodged  behind. 

At  another  time,  when  he  worked  off  a 
slab  of  bark  in  hopes  of  a  meal,  he  found 
only  a  long  brown  millipede.  Its  smell 
was  earthy  but  strange,  its  many  legs  and 
its  warning  feelers,  uncanny.  The  smell- 
guide  seemed  in  doubt,  but  the  inborn 
warden  said:  "Beware,  touch  it  not."  He 
hung  back  watching  askance,  as  the  evil 
thing,  distilling  its  strange  pestilent  gas, 
wormed  Snake -like  out  of  sight,  and  Ban- 
[22] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 


nertail  in  a  moment  had  formed  a  habit 
that  was  of  his  race,  and  that  lasted  all 
his  life.  Yea,  longer,  for  he  passed  it  on 
—  this:  Let  the  hundred-leggers  alone. 
Are  they  not  of  a  fearsome  poison  race  ? 
Thus  he  grew  daily  in  the  ways  of 
woodlore.  He  learned  that  the  gum- 
drops  on  the  wounded  bark  of  the  black 
birch  are  good  to  eat,  and  the  little  faded 
brown  umbrella  in  the  woods  is  the  sign 
that  it  has  a  white  cucumber  in  its  un- 
derground cellar;  that  the  wild  bees' 
nests  have  honey  in  them,  and  grubs  as 
good  as  honey;  but  beware,  for  the  bee 
has  a  sting !  He  learned  that  the  little 
rag-bundle  babies  hanging  from  vine  and 
twig,  contain  some  sort  of  a  mushy  shell- 
covered  creature  that  is  amazingly  good 
to  eat;  that  the  little  green  apples  that 
grow  on  the  oaks  are  not  acorns,  and  are 
yet  toothsome  morsels  of  the  lighter  sort, 
while  nearly  every  bush  in  the  woods  at 
[23] 


Bannertail 

autumn  now  had  strings  of  berries  whose 
pulp  was  good  to  eat  and  whose  single 
inside  seed  was  as  sweet  as  any  nut. 
Thus  he  was  learning  woodcraft,  and 
grew  and  prospered,  for  outside  of  sundry 
Redsquirrels  and  Chipmunks  there  were 
few  competitors  for  this  generous  giving 
of  the  Woods. 


[  24 


THE  FLUFFING  OF  HIS  TAIL 


CHAPTER  V 


THE  FLUFFING  OF  HIS  TAIL 

HERE  are  certain  stages  of 
growthth  at  are  marked  by 
changes  which,  if  not  sud- 
?>  den,  are  for  a  time  very- 
quick,  and  the  big  change 
in  Bannertail,  which  took  place  just  as 
he  gave  up  the  tricks  and  habits  learned 
from  his  Cat-folk,  and  began  to  be  truly 
a  Squirrel,  was  marked  by  the  fluffing  of 
his  tail.  Always  long  and  long-haired,  it 
was  a  poor  wisp  of  a  thing  until  the  coming 
of  the  Hunting-moon.  Then  the  hairs 
grew  out  longer  and  became  plumy,  then 
the  tail  muscles  swelled  and  worked  with 
power.  Then,  too,  he  began  a  habit  of 
[27] 


Bannertail 

_^N\\,,_  fluffing  out  that  full  and  flaunting  plume 

W  every  few  minutes.     Once  or  twice  a  day 


:.:\ 


_  he  combed  it,  and  ever  he  was  most  care- 

^  li^^^^      ('^  "^\        ^^^  ^^  keep  it  out  of  wet  or  dirt.     His  coat 

'^^//ll^^*  I      y\       might  be  stained  with  juice  of  fruit  or 

'     '  *      gum  of  pine,  and  little  he  cared ;  but  the 
moment  a  pine  drop  or  a  bit  of  stick, 
moss,  or  mud  clung  to  his  tail  he  stopped 
f  J(  all  other  work  to  lick,  clean,  comb,  shake, 

fluff  and  double-fluff  that  precious,  beau- 
tiful member  to  its  perfect  fulness,  light- 
ness, and  plumy  breadth. 

Why?  What  the  trunk  is  to  the  ele- 
phant and  the  paw  to  the  monkey,  the 
tail  is  to  the  Graysquirrel,  It  is  his  spe- 
cial gift,  a  vital  part  of  his  outfit,  the 
secret  of  his  life.  The  'possum's  tail  is 
to  swing  by,  the  fox's  tail  for  a  blanket 
wrap,  but  the  Squirrel's  tail  is  a  para- 
chute, a  ''land-easy";  with  that  in  per- 
fect trim  he  can  fall  from  any  height  in 
any  tree  and  be  sure  of  this,  that  he  will 
[28] 


The  Stoiy  of  a  Qraysquirrel 

land  with  ease  and  lightness,  and  on  his 
feet. 

This  thing  Bannertail  knew  without 
learning  it.  It  was  implanted,  not  by 
what  he  saw  in  Kitten  days,  or  in  the 
woods  about,  but  by  the  great  All- 
Mother,  who  had  builded  up  his  athlete 
form  and  blessed  him  with  an  inner 
Guide. 


[29] 


THE  FIRST  NUT  CROP 


CHAPTER  VI 
THE  FIRST  NUT  CROP 

'HAT  year  the  nut  crop  was  a 
failure.  This  was  the  off- 
year  for  the  red  oaks;  they 
bear  only  every  other  sea- 
son. The  white  oaks  had 
been  nipped  by  a  late  frost.  The  beech- 
trees  were  very  scarce,  and  the  chestnuts 
were  gone  —  the  blight  had  taken  them 
all.  Pignut  hickories  were  not  plentiful, 
and  the  very  best  of  all,  the  sweet  shag- 
hickory,  had  suffered  like  the  white  oaks. 
October,  the  time  of  the  nut  harvest, 
came.  Dry  leaves  were  drifting  to  the 
ground,  and  occasional  "thumps"  told  of 
big  fat  nuts  that  also  were  falling,  some- 
times of  themselves  and  sometimes  cut 
by  harvesters;  for,  although  no  other 
[33] 


Bannertail 


Gray  squirrel  was  to  be  seen,  Bannertail 
was  not  alone.  A  pair  of  Redsquirrels 
was  there  and  half  a  dozen  Chipmunks 
searching  about  for  the  scattering  pre- 
cious nuts. 

Their  methods  were  very  different  from 
those  of  the  Graysquirrel  race.  The 
Chipmunks  were  carrying  off  the  prizes 
in  their  cheek-pouches  to  underground 
storehouses.  The  Redsquirrels  were  hur- 
rying away  with  their  loads  to  distant 
hollow  trees,  a  day's  gathering  in  one 
tree.  The  Gray  squirrels'  way  is  differ- 
ent. With  them  each  nut  is  buried  in 
the  ground,  three  or  four  inches  deep,  one 
nut  at  each  place.  A  very  precise  essen- 
tial instinct  it  is  that  regulates  this  plan. 
It  is  inwrought  with  the  very  making  of 
the  Graysquirrel  race.  Yet  in  Banner- 
tail  it  was  scarcely  functioning  at  all. 
Even  the  strongest  inherited  habit  needs 
a  starter. 

[34] 


E^r:s 


\\ 


V 


:^i 


/  -^ 


r\ 


The  Story  of  a  Gra^squirrel 

How  does  a  young  chicken  learn  to 
peck?  It  has  a  strong  inborn  readiness 
to  do  it,  but  we  know  that  that  impulse 
must  be  stimulated  at  first  by  seeing  the 
mother  peck,  or  it  will  not  function.  In 
an  incubator  it  is  necessary  to  have  a 
sophisticated  chicken  as  a  leader,  or  the 
chickens  of  the  machine  foster-mother 
will  die,  not  knowing  how  to  feed.  Nev- 
ertheless, the  instinct  is  so  strong  that  a 
trifle  will  arouse  it  to  take  control.  Yes, 
so  small  a  trifle  as  tapping  on  the  incu- 
bator floor  with  a  pencil -point  will  tear 
the  flimsy  veil,  break  the  restraining  bond 
and  set  the  life-preserving  instinct  free. 

Like  this  chicken,  robbed  of  its  birth- 
right by  interfering  man,  was  Bannertail 
in  his  blind  yielding  to  a  vague  desire  to 
hide  the  nuts.  He  had  never  seen  it 
done,  the  example  of  the  other  nut-gath- 
erers was  not  helpful  —  was  bewildering, 
indeed. 

[35] 


Bannertail 

Confused  between  the  inborn  impulse 
and  the  outside  stimulus  of  example, 
Bannertail  would  seize  a  nut,  strip  off  the 
husk,  and  hide  it  quickly  anywhere. 
Some  nuts  he  would  thrust  under  bits 
of  brush  or  tufts  of  grass ;  some  he  buried 
by  dropping  leaves  and  rubbish  over 
them,  and  a  few,  toward  the  end,  he  hid 
by  digging  a  shallow  hole.  But  the  real, 
well-directed,  energetic  instinct  to  hide 
nut  after  nut,  burying  them  three  good 
inches,  an  arm's  length,  underground,  was 
far  from  being  aroused,  was  even  hin- 
dered by  seeing  the  Redsquirrels  and  the 
Chipmunks  about  him  bearing  away 
their  stores,  without  attempting  to  bury 
them  at  all. 

So  the  poor,  skimpy  harvest  was  gath- 
ered. What  was  not  carried  off  was 
hidden  by  the  trees  themselves  under  a 
layer  of  dead  and  fallen  leaves. 

High  above,  in  an  old  red  oak,  Banner- 
[36] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 


tail  found  a  place  where  a  broken  limb 
had  let  the  weather  in,  so  the  tree  was 
rotted.  Digging  out  the  soft  wood  left 
an  ample  cave,  which  he  gnawed  and  gar- 
nished into  a  warm  and  weather-proof 
home. 

The  bright,  sharp  days  of  autumn 
passed.  The  leaves  were  on  the  ground 
throughout  the  woods  in  noisy  dryness 
and  lavish  superabundance.  The  sum- 
mer birds  had  gone,  and  the  Chipmunk, 
oversensitive  to  the  crispness  of  the 
mornings,  had  bowed  sedately  on  Novem- 
ber 1,  had  said  his  last  "good-by,"  and 
had  gone  to  sleep.  Thus  one  more  voice 
was  hushed,  the  feeling  of  the  woods 
was  ''Hush,  be  still!''  —  was  all-expectant 
of  some  new  event,  that  the  tentacles 
of  high-strung  wood-folk  sensed  and 
appraised  as  sinister.  Backward  they 
shrank,  to  hide  away  and  wait. 

[37] 


/. 


\  ♦.       '■"  •■' '  GOOD' 


k^ 


Nov 


THE  SUX  SO.\G  OF  BANNERTAIL 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  SUN  SONG  OF  BANNERTAIL 

^HE  sun  was  rising  in  a 
rosy  mist,  and  glinting  the 
dew-wet  overlimbs,  as  there 
rang  across  the  bright  bare 
stretch  of  woodland  a  loud 
"  Qua,  qua,  qua,  quaaaaaaa  /"  Like  a  high 
priest  of  the  sun  on  the  topmost  peak  of 
the  temple  stood  Bannertail,  carried  away 
by  a  new-born  inner  urge.  A  full-grown 
wildwood  Graysquirrel  he  was  now,  the 
call  of  the  woods  had  claimed  him,  and 
he  hailed  the  glory  of  the  east  with  an 
ever  longer  ''Qua,  qua,  quaaaaaaaaaaV 

This   was   the   season  of  the   shortest 
days,  though  no  snow  had  come  as  yet  to 
cover  the  brown-leaved  earth.     Few  birds 
[41] 


Bannertail 


were  left  of  the  summer  merrymakers. 
The  Crow,  the  Nuthatch,  the  Chickadee, 
and  the  Wood  wale  alone  were  there,  and 
the  sharp  tang  of  the  frost-bit  air  was 
holding  back  their  sun-up  calls.  But  Ban- 
nertail, a  big  Graysquirrel  nov/,  found 
gladness  in  the  light,  intensified,  it 
seemed,  by  the  very  lateness  of  its  com- 
ing. 

''Qua,  qua,  qua,  quaaaaaa,"  he  sang, 
and  done  into  speech  of  man  the  song 
said:  ''Hip,  hip,  hip,  hurrahhh!'' 

He  had  risen  from  his  bed  in  the  hol- 
low oak  to  meet  and  greet  it.  He  was 
full  of  lusty  life  now,  and  daily  better 
loved  his  life.  "Qua,  qua,  qua,  quaaaa!" 
—  he  poured  it  out  again  and  again.  The 
Chickadee  quit  his  bug  hunt  for  a  moment 
to  throw  back  his  head  and  shout:  "Me, 
too!*'  The  Nuthatch,  wrong  end  up,  an- 
swered in  a  low,  nasal  tone:  "Hear,  hear, 
hear!'*  Even  the  sulky  Crow  joined  in  at 
[42] 


The  Story  of  a  Gra\)squirrel 

last  with  a  '''Rah,  'rah,  'rah!''  and  the 
Woodwale  beat  a  long  tattoo. 

"Hip,  hip,  hip,  hurrah,  hurrah,  hur- 
rah!" shouted  Bannertail  as  the  all- 
blessed  glory  rose  clear  above  the  eastern 
trees  and  the  world  was  aflood  with  the 
Sun-God's  golden  smile. 

A  score  of  times  had  he  thus  sung  and 
whip-lashed  his  tail,  and  sung  again,  ex- 
ulting, when  far  away,  among  the  noises 
made  by  birds,  was  a  low  "Qua,  quaaa!" 
—  the  voice  of  another  Graysquirrel ! 

His  kind  was  all  too  scarce  in  Jersey- 
land,  and  yet  another  would  not  neces- 
sarily be  a  friend;  but  in  the  delicate 
meaningful  modulations  of  sound  so  accu- 
rately sensed  by  the  Squirrel's  keen  ear, 
this  far-off ''Qz/(7,  qua,"  was  a  little  softer 
than  his  own,  a  little  higher-pitched,  a 
little  more  gently  modulated,  and  Ban- 
nertail knew  without  a  moment's  guess- 
ing. "Yes,  it  was  a  Graysquirrel,  and  it 
[43] 


')l\ 


Banner  tail 

was  not  one  that  would  take  the  war- 
path against  him." 

The  distant  voice  replied  no  more,  and 
Bannertail  set  about  foraging  for  his 
morning  meal. 

The  oak-tree  in  which  he  had  slept  was 
only  one  of  the  half-a-dozen  beds  he  now 
claimed.  It  was  a  red  oak,  therefore  its 
acorns  were  of  poor  quality;  and  it  was 
on  the  edge  of  the  woods.  The  best 
feeding-grounds  were  some  distance  away, 
but  the  road  to  them  well  known.  Al- 
though so  much  at  home  in  the  trees, 
Bannertail  travelled  on  the  ground  when 
going  to  a  distance.  Down  the  great 
trunk,  across  an  open  space  to  a  stump, 
a  pause  on  the  stump  to  fluff  his  tail  and 
look  around,  a  few  bounds  to  a  fence, 
then  along  the  top  of  that  in  three-foot 
hops  till  he  came  to  the  gap ;  six  feet  across 
this  gap,  and  he  took  the  flying  leap  with 
pride,  remembering  how,  not  so  long  ago, 

^  [  44  ] 


■  I 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

he  used  perforce  to  drop  to  the  ground 
and  amble  to  the  other  post.  He  was 
making  for  the  white  oak  and  hickory- 
groves;  but  his  keen  nose  brought  him 
the  message  of  a  big  red  acorn  under  the 
leaves.  He  scratched  it  out  and  smelled 
it  —  yes,  good.  He  ripped  off  the  shell 
and  here,  ensconced  in  the  middle,  was  a 
fat  white  grub,  just  as  good  as  the  nut 
itself,  or  better.  So  Bannertail  had  grub 
on  the  half-shell  and  nuts  on  the  side  for 
his  first  course.  Then  he  set  about  nos- 
ing for  hidden  hickory-nuts;  few  and 
scarce  were  they.  He  had  not  found  one 
when  a  growing  racket  announced  the 
curse-beast  of  the  woods,  a  self-hunting 
dog.  Clatter,  crash,  among  the  dry  leaves 
and  brush,  it  came,  yelping  with  noisy, 
senseless  stupidity  when  it  found  a  track 
that  seemed  faintly  fresh.  Bannertail 
went  quietly  up  a  near  elm-tree,  keeping 
the  trunk  between  himself  and  the  beast. 
[45] 


"^z:^- 


Bannertail 

From  the  elm  he  swung  to  a  basswood, 
and  finished  his  meal  off  basswood  buds. 
Keeping  one  eye  on  the  beast,  he 
scrambled  to  an  open  platform  nest  that 
he  had  made  a  month  ago,  where  he  lazed 
in  the  sun,  still  keeping  eyes  and  ears 
alert  for  tidings  from  the  disturber  below. 

The  huge  brute  prowled  around  and 
found  the  fresh  scent  up  the  elm,  and 
barked  at  it,  too,  but  of  course  he  was 
barking  up  the  wrong  tree,  and  presently 
went  off.  Bannertail  watched  him  with 
some  faint  amusement,  then  at  last  went 
rippling  down  the  trunk  and  through  the 
woods  like  a  cork  going  down  a  rushing 
stream. 

He  was  travelling  homeward  by  the 
familiar  route,  on  the  ground,  in  undu- 
lated bounds,  with  pauses  at  each  high 
lookout,  when  again  the  alarm  of  ene- 
mies reached  him  —  a  dog,  sniffing  and 
barking,  and  farther  off  a  hunter.  Ban- 
[46] 


The  Story  of  a  Gra^squirrel 


nertail  made  for  the  nearest  big  tree,  and 
up  that  he  went,  keeping  ever  the  trunk 
between.  Then  came  the  dog — a  Squirrel 
Hound — and  found  the  track  and  yelped. 
Up  near  the  top  was  a  "dray,"  or  plat- 
form nest,  one  Bannertail  had  used  and 
partly  built,  and  in  this  he  stretched  out 
contentedly,  peering  over  the  edge  at  the 
ugly  brutes  below.  The  dog  kept  yelp- 
ing up  the  trunk,  saying  plainly:  ''Squir- 
rel, squirrel,  squirrel,  up,  up,  up!^^  And 
the  hunter  came  and  craned  his  neck  till 
it  was  cricked,  but  nothing  he  saw  to 
shoot  at.  Then  he  did  what  a  hunter 
often  does.  He  sent  a  charge  of  shot 
through  the  nest  that  was  in  plain  view. 
There  were  some  heavy  twigs  in  its  make- 
up, and  it  rested  on  a  massive  fork,  or  the 
event  might  have  gone  hard  with  Banner- 
tail.  The  timber  received  most  of  the 
shock  of  the  shot,  but  a  something  went 
stinging  through  his  ear  tip  that  stuck 

[47] 


^v 


4 


Bannertail 

beyond  the  rim.  It  hurt  and  scared 
him,  and  he  was  divided  between  the 
impulse  to  rush  forth  and  seek  other 
shelter,  and  the  instinct  to  lie  absolutely 
still.  Fortunately  he  lay  still,  and  the 
hunter  passed  on,  leaving  the  Squirrel 
wiser  in  several  ways,  for  now  he  knew 
the  danger  of  the  dray  when  gunners 
came  and  the  wisdom  of  *'lay  low"  when 
in  doubt. 


[48] 


% 


THE    COLD    SLEEP 


CHAPTER  VIII 


THE  COLD  SLEEP 


?EXT  day  there  was  a  driving 
storm  of  snow,  and  whether 
the  sun  came  up  or  not 
Bannertail  did  not  know. 
He  kept  his  nest,  and,  fall- 
ing back  on  an  ancient  spend -time  of  the 
folk  he  kins  with,  he  curied  up  into  a 
sleep  that  deepened  with  the  cold.  This 
is  partly  a  deliberate  sleep.  The  animal 
voluntarily  lets  go,  knowing  that  life  out- 
side is  unattractive;  he,  by  an  act  of  the 
will,  induces  the  cold  sleep,  that  is  like 
a  chapter  of  forgetfulness,  with  neither 
hunger  nor  desire,  and  after  it  is  over, 
no  pain  in  punishment  or  remorse. 

For   two   days   the   storm   raged,   and 
[51] 


Banner  tail 

when  the  white  flakes  ceased  to  pile  upon 
the  hills  and  trees,  a  cutting  blast  arose 
that  sent  snow-horses  riding  across  the 
fields  and  piled  them  up  in  drifts  along 
the  fences. 

It  made  life  harder  for  the  Squirrel-Folk 
by  hiding  good  Mother  Earth  from  their 
hungry  eyes;  but  in  one  way  the  wind 
served  them,  for  it  swept  the  snow  from 
all  the  limbs  that  served  the  tree-folk  as 
an  over-way. 

For  two  days  the  blizzard  hissed.  The 
third  day  it  was  very  cold;  on  the  fourth 
day  Bannertail  peeped  forth  on  the 
changed  white  world.  The  wind,  the 
pest  of  wild  life  in  the  trees,  had  ceased, 
the  sky  was  clear,  and  the  sun  was  shin- 
ing in  a  weak,  uncertain  way.  It  evoked 
no  enthusiasm  in  the  Graycoat's  soul. 
Not  once  did  he  utter  his  Sun-salute.  He 
was  stiff  and  sleepy,  and  a  little  hungry  as 
he  went  forth.  His  hunger  grew  with  the 
[52] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

exercise  of  moving.  Had  he  been  capa- 
ble of  such  thought  he  might  have  said: 
"Thank  goodness  the  wind  has  swept 
the  snow  from  the  branches."  He  gal- 
loped and  bounded  from  one  high  over- 
way  to  another,  till  a  wide  gap  be- 
tween tree-tops  compelled  him  to  descend. 
Over  the  broad  forest  floor  of  shining 
white  he  leaped,  and  made  for  the  be- 
loved hickory  grove.  Pine-cones  furnish 
food,  so  do  buds  of  elm  and  flower-buds 
of  maple.  Red  acorns  are  bitter  yet  eat- 
able, white  acorns  still  better,  and  chest- 
nuts and  beechnuts  delicious,  but  the 
crowning  glory  of  a  chosen  feast  is  nuts 
of  the  big  shag  hickory  —  so  hard  of  shell 
that  only  the  strongest  chisel  teeth  can 
reach  them,  so  precious  that  nature  locks 
them  up  in  a  strong-box  of  stone,  en- 
wrapped in  a  sole-leather  case;  so  sought 
after,  that  none  of  themi  escape  the  hun- 
gry creatures  of  the  wood  for  winter  use, 
[53] 


Banner  tail 

except  such  as  they  themselves  have 
hidden  for  just  such  times.  Bannertail 
quartered  the  surface  of  the  snow  among 
the  silent  bare-limbed  trees,  sniffing,  sniff- 
ing, alert  for  the  faintest  whiff. 

A  hound  would  not  have  found  it  — 
his  nose  is  trained  for  other  game.  Ban- 
nertail stopped,  swung  his  keen  "divin- 
ing-rod," advanced  a  few  hops,  moved 
this  way  and  that,  then  at  the  point  of 
the  most  alluring  whiff,  he  began  to  dig 
down,  down  through  the  snow. 

Soon  he  was  out  of  sight,  for  here  the 
drift  was  nearly  two  feet  deep.  But  he 
kept  on,  then  his  busy  hind  feet  replac- 
ing the  front  ones  as  diggers  for  a  time, 
sent  flying  out  on  the  white  surface  brown 
leaves,  then  black  loam.  Nothing  showed 
but  his  tail  and  little  jets  of  leaf-mould. 
.  His  whole  arm's-length  into  the  frosty 
ground  did  he  dig,  allured  by  an  ever- 
■''  growing  rich  aroma.     At  last  he  seized 

T/  [  54  ] 


-?»-. 


The  Story  of  a  Gravsquirrel 

and  dragged  forth  in  his  teeth  a  big  fat 
hickory-nut,  one  buried  by  himself  last 
fall,  and,  bounding  with  rippling  tail  up 
a  tree  to  a  safe  perch  that  was  man-high 
from  the  ground,  he  sawed  the  shell 
adroitly  and  feasted  on  the  choicest  food 
that  is  known  to  the  Squirrel  kind. 

A  second  prowl  and  treasure-hunt  pro- 
duced another  nut,  a  third  produced  an 
acorn,  a  visit  to  the  familiar  ever-unfrozen 
spring  quenched  his  thirst,  and  then  back 
he  undulated  through  the  woods  and  over 
the  snow  to  his  cosey  castle  in  the  oak. 


[55] 


THE    BALKING    OF    FIRE-EYES 


CHAPTER  IX 


THE  BALKING  OF  FIRE-EYES 


|THER  days  were  much  like 
this  as  the  Snow-moon 
slowly  passed.  But  one 
there  was  that  claimed  a 
place  in  his  memory  for 
long.  He  had  gone  farther  afield  to 
another  grove  of  hickories,  and  was  dig- 
ging down  so  deep  into  the  snow  that  cau- 
tion compelled  him  to  come  out  and  look 
around  at  intervals.  It  was  well  he  did  so, 
for  a  flash  of  brown  and  white  appeared 
on  a  near  log.  It  made  toward  him,  and 
Bannertail  got  an  instinctive  sense  of 
fear.  Small  though  it  was,  smaller  than 
himself,  the  diabolic  fire  in  its  close-set 
[59] 


Banner  tail 

eyes  gave  him  a  thrill  of  terror.  He  felt 
that  his  only  safety  lay  in  flight. 

Now  it  was  a  race  for  the  tall  timber, 
and  a  close  one,  but  Bannertail's  hops 
were  six  feet  long;  his  legs  went  faster 
than  the  eye  could  see.  The  deep  snow 
was  harder  on  him  than  on  his  ferocious 
enemy,  but  he  reached  the  great  rugged 
trunk  of  an  oak,  and  up  that,  gaining 
a  little.  The  Weasel  followed  close  be- 
hind, up,  up,  to  the  topmost  limbs,  and 
out  on  a  long,  level  branch  to  leap  for  the 
next  tree.  Bannertail  could  leap  farther 
than  Fire-eyes,  but  then  he  was  heavier 
and  had  to  leap  from  where  the  twigs  were 
thicker.  So  Fire-eyes,  having  only  half 
as  far  to  go,  covered  the  leap  as  well  as 
the  Squirrel  did,  and  away  they  went  as 
before. 

Every  wise  Squirrel  knows  all  the  leaps 
in  his  woods,  those  which  he  can  easily 
make,  and  those  which  will  call  for  every 
[60] 


\ 


-%. 


p\ 


''^J' 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

ounce  of  power  in  his  legs.  The  deviUsh 
pertinacity  of  the  Weasel,  still  hard  after 
him,  compelled  him  to  adopt  a  scheme. 
He  made  for  a  wide  leap,  the  very  limit 
of  his  powers,  where  the  take-off  was  the 
end  of  a  big  broken  branch,  and  racing 
six  hops  behind  was  the  Brown  Terror. 
Without  a  moment's  pause  went  Banner- 
tail  easily  across  the  six-foot  gap,  to  land 
on  a  sturdy  limb  in  the  other  tree.  And  the 
Weasel !  He  knew  he  could  not  make  it, 
hung  back  an  instant,  gathered  his  legs 
under  him,  snarled,  glared  redder-eyed 
than  ever,  bobbed  down  a  couple  of  times, 
measured  the  distance  with  his  eye,  then 
wheeled  and,  racing  back,  went  down 
the  tree,  to  cross  and  climb  the  one 
that  sheltered  the  Squirrel.  Bannertail 
quietly  hopped  to  a  higher  perch,  and, 
when  the  right  time  came,  leaped  back 
again  to  the  stout  oak  bough.  Again  the 
Weasel,  with   dogged  pertinacity,  raced 

[61] 


Bannertad 

down  and  up,  only  to  see  the  Graysquir- 
rel  again  leap  lightly  across  the  impass- 
able gulf.  Most  hunters  would  have 
given  up  now,  but  there  is  no  end  to  the 
dogged  stick-to-itiveness  of  the  Weasel; 
besides,  he  was  hungry.  And  half-a- 
dozen  times  he  had  made  the  long  circuit 
while  his  intended  victim  took  the  short 
leap.  Then  Bannertail,  gaining  confi- 
dence, hit  on  a  plan  which,  while  it  may 
have  been  meant  for  mere  teasing,  had 
all  the  effect  of  a  deep  stratagem  played 
with  absolute  success. 

When  next  the  little  red-eyed  terror 
came  racing  along  the  oak  limb,  Banner- 
tail  waited  till  the  very  last  moment,  then 
leaped,  grasped  the  far-side  perch,  and, 
turning,  "yipped"  out  one  derisive 
''grrrfy  grrrf,  grrrf  after  another,  and 
craned  forward  in  mockery  of  the  little 
fury.  This  was  too  much.  Wild  with 
rage,  the  Weasel  took  the  leap,  fell  far 
[62] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

short,  and  went  whirling  head  over  heels 
down  seventy-five  feet,  to  land  not  in  the 
soft  snow  but  on  a  hard-oak  log,  that 
knocked  out  his  cruel  wind,  and  ended 
for  the  day  all  further  wish  to  murder  or 
destroy. 


[63] 


REDSQUIRREL,   THE  SCOLD  OF 
THE  WOODS 


CHAPTER   X 

REDSQUIRREL,  THE  SCOLD  OF 
THE  WOODS 


HE  Snow-moon  was  waning, 
the  Hunger-moon  at  hand, 
when  Bannertail  met  with 
another  adventure.  He  had 
gone  far  off  to  the  pine 
woods  of  a  deep  glen,  searching  for  cones, 
when  he  was  set  on  by  a  Redsquirrel. 
Flouncing  over  the  plumy  boughs  it  came, 
chattering:  "Squat,  squat,  quit,  quit,  quit'' 
—  ''git,  git,  git'*  —  and  each  moment 
seemed  more  inclined  to  make  a  tooth- 
and-nail  attack  on  Bannertail.  And  he, 
what  had  he  to  fear  ?  Was  he  not  bigger 
and  stronger  than  the  Red-headed  One? 
Yes,  very  well  able  to  overmatch  him  in 
[67] 


Bannertail 

fight,  but  his  position  was  much  Hke  that 
of  a  grown  man  who  is  assailed  by  a  black- 
guard boy.  There  is  no  glory  in  the  fight, 
if  it  comes  to  that.  There  is  much  un- 
pleasant publicity,  and  the  man  usually 
decides  that  it  is  better  to  ignore  the  in- 
sult and  retreat.  This  was  Bannertail's 
position  exactly.  He  hated  a  row  — 
most  wild  things  do  —  it  brings  them  into 
notice  of  the  very  creatures  they  wish  to 
avoid.  Besides,  the  Redsquirrel  was  not 
without  some  justification,  for  these  were 
his  pine-trees  by  right  of  long  possession. 
Bannertail,  without  touch  of  violence 
or  fear  of  it,  yielded  to  the  inward  im- 
pulses, yielded  and  retreated,  closely  pur- 
sued by  the  Redsquirrel,  who  kept  just 
/  out  of  reach,  but  worked  himself  up  into 
/  a  still  noisier  rage  as  he  saw  the  invader 
._--"■* — ^^^^^^^^H  Jf/'  draw  off.  It  was  characteristic  of  the 
/^     m  Red  One  that  he  did  not  stop  at  the  bor- 

/     r- V  Jji    '  ,    der  of  his  own  range  but  followed  right 

^'SO  "'^^m  [68] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

into  the  hickory  country,  shrieking:  ''Git, 
git,  ye  brute  ye,  ye  brute  ye,  git!''  with  in- 
solence born  of  his  success,  though  its 
real  explanation  was  beyond  him. 


[69] 


BANNERTAIL  AND   THE   ECHO 
VOICE 


CHAPTER     XI 


BANNERTAIL  AND  THE  ECHO 
VOICE 

^^HE  Hunger-moon,  our  Feb- 
^^  ruary,  was  half  worn  away 
when  again  the  sky  gods 
^  seemed  to  win  against  the 
powers  of  chill  and  gloom. 
Food  was  ever  scarcer,  but  Bannertail 
had  enough,  and  was  filled  with  the  vigor 
of  young  life.  The  sun  came  up  in  a  cloud- 
less sky  that  day,  and  blazed  through  the 
branches  of  still,  tense  woodland,  the  air 
was  crisp  and  exhilarating,  and  Banner- 
tail,  tingling  with  the  elation  of  life, 
leaped  up  for  the  lust  of  leaping,  and 
sang  out  his  loudest  song: 
[73) 


Bannertail 

''Qua,  qiia,qiia,qnaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaal " 
from  a  high  perch.  Ringing  across  the 
woodland  it  went,  and  the  Woodwales 
drummed  on  hardwood  drums,  in  keen 
responsiveness,  to  the  same  fair,  vernal 
influence  of  the  time. 

Though  he  seemed  only  to  sing  for 
singing's  sake,  he  was  conscious  lately  of 
a  growing  loneliness,  a  hankering  for  com- 
pany that  had  never  possessed  him  all 
winter;  indeed,  he  had  resented  it  when 
any  hint  of  visitors  had  reached  him,  but 
now  he  was  restless  and  desireful,  as  well 
as  bursting  with  the  wish  to  sing. 

''Qua,  qua,  qua,  quaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaV'' 
he  sang  again  and  again,  and  on  the  still, 
bright  air  were  echoes  from  the  hills. 

"Qua,  qua,  quaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ! ''  He 
poured  it  out  again,  and  the  echo  came, 
"  Qua,  quaaaaa ! "  Then  another  call,  and 
the  echo,  "Quaaa! " 

Was  it  an  echo? 

[74] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 


He  waited  in  silence  —  then  far  away 
he  heard  the  soft  ''Qua,  quaa'"  that  had 
caught  his  ear  last  fall.  The  voice  of 
another  Gray  coat,  but  so  soft  and  allur- 
ing that  it  thrilled  him.  Here,  indeed, 
was  the  answer  to  the  hankering  in  his 
heart. 

But  even  as  he  craned  and  strained  to 
locate  its  very  place,  another  call  was 
heard : 

''Qua,  qua,  qua,  quaaaaaa'' 

from  some  big  strong  Graycoat  like  him- 
self, and  all  the  fighting  blood  in  him  was 
stirred.  He  raced  to  the  ground  and 
across  the  woodland  to  the  hillside  whence 
the  voice  came. 

On  a  log  he  stopped,  with  senses 
alert  for  new  guidance.  ''Qua,  qua, 
quaaa,^^  came  the  soft  call,  and  up  the 
tree  went  Bannertail,  a  silvery  tail-tip 
flashed  behind  the  trunk,  and  now,  ablaze 
with  watchfulness,  he  followed  fast.  Then 
[75] 


Bannertail 

came  a  lone,  long  ''Qua,  qua,'*  then  a 
defiant  "Grrff,''  like  a  scream,  and  a 
third  big  Graysquirrel  appeared,  to  scram- 
ble up  after  Bannertail. 


[76] 


THE  COURTING  OF  SILVERGRAY 


CHAPTER  XII 

THE   COURTING  OF  SILVERGRAY 

(WAY  went  Silvergray,  un- 
dulating among  the  high 
branches  that  led  to  the 
next  tree,  and  keen  behind 
came  the  two.  Then  they 
met  at  the  branch  that  had  furnished  the 
footway  for  the  Gray  Lady,  and  in  a  mo- 
ment they  clinched.  Grappling  like  cats, 
they  drove  their  teeth  into  each  other's 
shoulders,  just  where  the  hide  was  thick- 
est and  the  danger  least. 

In  their  combat  rage  they  paid  no  heed 

to  where  they  were.     Their  every  clutch 

was  on  each  other,  none  for  the  branch, 

and  over  they  tumbled  into  open  space. 

Two  fighting  cats  so  falling  would  have 

[79] 


'         -Li  /.    '  — 


Bannertail 

clutched  the  harder  and  hoped  each  that 
the  other  would  be  the  one  to  land  on 
the  under  side.  Squirrels  have  a  dif- 
ferent way.  Sensing  the  fall,  at  once 
they  sprang  apart,  each  fluffed  his  great 
flowing  tail  to  the  utmost  —  it  is  nature's 
own  "land-easy"  —  they  landed  gently, 
wide  apart,  and  quite  unshaken  even  by 
the  fall.  Overhead  was  the  Lady  of 
the  tourney,  in  plain  view,  and  the  two 
stout  knights  lost  not  a  moment  in  dart- 
ing up  her  tree;  again  they  met  on  a 
narrow  limb,  again  they  clutched  and 
stabbed  each  other  with  their  chisel  teeth, 
again  the  reckless  grapple,  clutch,  and 
the  drop  in  vacant  air  —  again  they  shot 
apart,  one  landed  on  the  solid  ground, 
but  the  other  —  the  echo  voice  —  went 
splash,  plunge  into  the  deepest  part 
of  the  creek!  In  ten  heart-beats  he 
was  safely  on  the  bank.  But  there  is 
such  soothing  magic  in  cold  water,  such 
[80] 


"'^ 


The  Story  of  a  Gra\^squirrel 

quenching  of  all  fires,  be  they  of  smoke 
or  love  or  war,  that  the  Echo  Singer 
crawled  forth  in  quite  a  different  mood, 
and  Bannertail,  flashing  up  the  great 
tree  trunk,  went  now  alone. 

To  have  conquered  a  rival  is  a  long 
step  toward  victory,  but  it  is  not  yet 
victory  complete.  When  he  swung  from 
limb  to  limb,  ever  nearer  the  Silvergray, 
he  was  stirred  with  the  wildest  hankering 
of  love.  Was  she  not  altogether  lovely? 
But  she  fled  away  as  though  she  feared 
him;  and  away  he  went  pursuing. 

There  is  no  more  exquisite  climbing 
action  than  that  of  the  Squirrel,  and 
these  two,  half  a  leap  apart,  winding, 
wending,  rippling  through  the  high  roof- 
tree  of  the  woods,  were  less  like  two  gray 
climbing  things  than  some  long,  silvery 
serpent,  sinuating,  flashing  in  and  out  in 
undulating  coils  with  endless  grace  and 
certainty  among  the  trees. 
[81] 


Bannertail 

Now  who  will  say  that  Silvergray 
really  raced  her  fastest,  and  who  will 
deny  that  he  did  his  best?  He  was 
strong  and  swift,  the  race  must  end,  and 
then  she  faced  him  with  anger  and  men- 
ace simulated  in  her  face  and  pose.  He 
approached  too  near;  her  chisel  teeth 
closed  on  his  neck.  He  held  still,  limp, 
absolutely  unresisting.  Her  clutch  re- 
laxed. Had  he  not  surrendered?  They 
stood  facing  each  other,  an  armed  neu- 
trality established,  nothing  more. 

Shyly  apart  and  yet  together,  they 
drifted  about  that  day,  feeding  at  feed 
time.  But  she  was  ready  to  warn  him 
that  his  distance  he  must  keep. 

By  countless  little  signs  they  under- 
stood each  other,  and  when  the  night 
came  she  entered  a  familiar  hollow  tree 
and  warned  him  to  go  home. 

Next  day  they  met  again,  and  the 
next,  for  there  is  a  rule  of  woodland 
&  [82] 


.,<^i>^ 


%^- 


THKV    IWIUUl.KD  WHISKKKS  CioOD   Mi.lli 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

courtship — three  times  he  must  offer  and 
be  refused.  Having  passed  this  proof, 
all  may  be  well. 

Thus  the  tradition  of  the  woods  was 
fully  carried  out,  and  Bannertail  with 
Silvergray  was  looking  for  a  home. 


[83 


THE  HOME  IN  THE  HIGH 
HICKORY 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE   HOME   IN   THE   HIGH 
HICKORY 


5ANNERTAIL  was  very  well 
satisfied  with  the  home  in 
the  red  oak,  and  assumed 
that  thither  he  should  bring 
his  bride.  But  he  had  not 
reckoned  with  certain  big  facts  —  that  is, 
laws  —  for  the  reason  that  he  had  never 
before  met  them.  The  female  wild  thing 
claims  all  authority  in  matters  of  the 
home,  and  in  the  honeymoon  time  no 
wild  mate  would  even  challenge  her  right 
to  rule. 

So  the  red  oak  den  was  then  and  there 
abandoned.     Search  in  the  hickory  grove 
resulted  in  a  find.     A  Flicker  had  dug 
[87  1 


B. 


anner 


tail 


into  the  trunk  of  a  tall  hickory  where  it 
was  dead.  Once  through  the  outer  shell 
the  inner  wood  was  rotten  punk,  too  easy 
for  a  Flicker  to  work  in,  but  exactly  right 
and  easy  for  a  Graysquirrel.  Here,  then, 
the  two  set  to  work  digging  out  the  soft 
rotten  wood  till  the  chamber  was  to 
their  liking,  much  bigger  than  that  the 
Woodpecker  would  have  made. 

March,  the  Wakening-moon,  was  spent 
in  making  the  home  and  lining  the  nest. 
Bark  strips,  pine-needles,  fine  shreds  of 
plants  that  had  defied  the  wind  and 
snow,  rags  of  clothes  left  by  winter  wood- 
men, feathers,  tufts  of  wool,  and  many 
twigs  of  basswood  with  their  swollen 
buds,  and  slippery -elm,  and  one  or  two 
—  yes,  Silvergray  could  not  resist  the 
impulse  —  fat  acorns  found  from  last 
year's  crop  and  hidden  now  deep  in  the 
lining  of  the  nest.  There  can  be  no  hap- 
pier time  for  any  wild  and  lusty  live  thing 
[88] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

than  when  working  with  a  loving  mate 
at  the  building  and  making  of  the  nest. 
Their  world  is  one  of  joy  —  fine  weather, 
fair  hunting,  with  food  enough,  over- 
whelming instincts  at  their  flush  of  com- 
pulsion —  all  gratified  in  sanest,  fullest 
measure.  This  sure  is  joy,  and  Ban- 
nertail  met  each  yellow  sun-up  with  his 
loudest  song  of  praise,  as  he  watched 
it  from  the  highest  lookout  of  his  home 
tree.  His  "qua"  song  reached  afar,  and 
in  its  vibrant  note  expressed  the  happy 
time,  and  expressing  it,  intensified  it  in 
himself.  There  seemed  no  ill  to  mar  the 
time.  Even  the  passing  snow-storms  of 
the  month  seemed  trifles;  they  were  little 
more  than  landmarks  on  the  joyful  way. 


[89] 


NEW  RIVALS 


CHAPTER  XIV 
NEW    RIVALS 

-^^£HE  stormy  moon  of  March 
was  nearly  over  when  a 
change  came  on  their  happy 
comradeship.  Silvergray 
seemed  to  beget  a  coolness, 
a  singular  aloofness.  If  they  were  on  the 
same  branch  together  she  did  not  sit 
touching  him.  If  he  moved  to  where  she 
chanced  to  stand,  and  tried,  as  a  thousand 
times  before,  to  snuggle  up,  she  moved 
away.  The  cloud,  whatever  it  was,  grew 
bigger.  In  vain  he  sought  by  pleasing 
acts  to  win  her  back.  She  had  definitely 
turned  against  him,  and  the  climax  came 
when  one  evening  they  climbed  to  their 
finished,  set,  and  furnished  house.  She 
[93] 


Bannertail 


whisked  in  ahead  of  him,  then,  turning 
suddenly,  filled  the  doorway  with  her 
countenance  expressing  defiance  and  hos- 
tility, her  sharp  teeth  menacingly  dis- 
played. She  said  as  plainly  as  she  could : 
"You  keep  away;  you  are  not  wanted 
here." 

And  Bannertail,  what  could  he  do? 
Hurt,  rebuffed,  not  wanted  in  the  house 
he  had  made  and  loved,  turned  away 
perforce  and  glumly  sought  his  bachelor 
home  in  the  friendly  old  red  oak. 

Whatever  was  the  cause,  Bannertail 
knew  that  it  was  his  part  to  keep  away, 
at  least  to  respond  to  her  wishes.  Next 
morning,  after  feeding,  he  swung  to  the 
nesting  tree.  Yes,  there  she  was  on  a 
limb  —  but  at  once  she  retreated  to  the 
door  and  repeated  the  signal,  "You  are 
not  wanted  here."  The  next  day  it  was 
the  same.  Then  on  the  third  day  she 
was  nowhere  to  be  seen.  Bannertail 
[94  1 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

hung  about  hoping  for  a  gUmpse,  but 
none  he  got.  Cautiously,  fearfully  he 
climbed  the  old  familiar  bark-way;  si- 
lently arriving  at  the  door,  he  gently 
thrust  in  his  head.  The  sweet  familiar 
furry  smell  told  him  "  yes,  she  was  there." 

He  moved  inward  another  step.  Yes, 
there  she  lay  curled  up  and  breathing. 
One  step  more;  up  she  started  with  an 
angry  little  snort.  Bannertail  sprang 
back  and  away,  but  not  before  he  had 
seen  and  sensed  this  solving  of  the 
mystery.  There,  snuggling  together  un- 
der her  warm  body  were  three  tiny 
little  baby  Squirrels. 

For  this,  indeed,  it  was  that  Mother 
Nature  whispered  messages  and  rules  of 
conduct.  For  this  time  it  was  she  had 
dowered  this  untutored  little  mother 
Squirrel  with  all  the  garnered  wisdom  of 
the  folk  before.  Nor  did  she  leave  them 
now,  but  sent  the  very  message  to  Mother 
[95] 


y-      ■ ' 


Bannertail 

Squirrel  and  Father  Squirrel,  and  the 
little  ones,  too,  at  the  very  time  when 
their  own  poor  knowledge  must  have 
failed. 

It  was  the  unspoken  hint  from  her 
that  made  the  little  mother-soon-to-be 
hide  in  the  nesting-place  some  nuts  with 
buds  of  slippery-elm,  twigs  of  spice  bush, 
and  the  bitter  but  nourishing  red  acorns. 
In  them  was  food  and  tonic  for  the 
trying  time.  Water  she  could  get  near 
by,  but  even  that  called  for  no  journey 
forth,  it  chanced  that  a  driving  rain 
drenched  the  tree,  and  at  the  very  door 
she  found  enough  to  drink. 


[96 


BACHELOR  LIFE  AGAIN 


CHAPTER  XV 

BACHELOR   LIFE   AGAIN 

5ANNERTAIL  was  left  to 
himself,  like  a  bachelor 
driven  to  his  club.  He  had 
become  very  wise  in  wood- 
lore  so  that  the  food  ques- 
tion was  no  longer  serious.  Not  count- 
ing the  remnant  of  the  nuts  still  un- 
earthed, the  swelling  buds  of  every  sweet- 
sapped  tree  were  wholesome,  delicious 
food,  the  inner  bark  of  sweet  birch  twigs 
was  good,  there  were  grubs  and  borers 
under  flakes  of  bark,  the  pucker  berries  ^V,",^ 


or  red  chokeberries  that  grow  in  the  low- 
lands still  hung  in  clusters.  Their  puck- 
ery  sourness  last  fall  had  made  all  crea- 
tures let  them  alone,  but  a  winter 
[99] 


; 


Bannertail 

weathering  had  sweetened  them,  and 
now  they  were  toothsome  as  well  as 
abundant  sustenance. 

Another,  wholly  different  food,  was 
added  to  the  list.  With  the  bright  spring 
days  the  yellow  Sapsucker  arrived  from 
the  South.  He  is  a  crafty  bird  and  a 
lover  of  sweets.  His  plan  is  to  drill  with 
his  sharp  beak  a  hole  deep  through  the 
bark  of  a  sugar-maple,  so  the  sap  runs 
out  and  down  the  bark,  lodging  in  the 
crevices ;  and  not  one  but  a  score  of  trees 
he  taps.  Of  course  the  sun  evaporates 
the  sap,  so  it  becomes  syrup,  and  even 
sugar  on  the  edges.  This  attracts  many 
spring  insects,  which  get  entangled  in  the 
sticky  stuff,  and  the  Sapsucker,  going 
from  tree  to  tree  in  the  morning,  feasts 
on  a  rich  confection  of  candied  bugs. 
But  many  other  creatures  of  the  woods 
delight  in  this  primitive  sweetmeat,  and 
Bannertail  did  not  hesitate  to  take  it 
[100] 


!13a-. 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

when  he  could  find  it.  Although  animals 
have  some  respect  for  property  law 
among  their  own  kind,  might  is  the  only- 
right  they  own  in  dealing  with  others. 

Amusement  aplenty  Bannertail  found 
in  building  "drays,"  or  tree  nests.  These 
are  stick  platforms  of  the  simplest  open- 
work, placed  high  in  convenient  trees. 
Some  are  for  lookouts,  some  for  sleeping- 
porches  when  the  night  is  hot,  some  are 
for  the  sun-bath  that  every  wise  Squirrel 
takes.  Here  he  would  lie  on  his  back  in 
the  morning  sun  with  his  belly  exposed, 
his  limbs  outsprawling,  and  let  the  heal- 
ing sun-rays  strike  through  the  thin  skin, 
reaching  every  part  with  their  actinic 
power. 

Bannertail  did  it  because  it  was  pleas- 
ant, and  he  ceased  doing  it  when  it  no 
longer  pleased  him.  Is  not  this  indeed 
Dame  Nature's  way?  Pain  is  her  pro- 
test against  injury,  and  soothingness  in 

[101] 


Bannertail 

the  healthy  creature  is  the  proof  that  it 
is  doing  good.  Many  disorders  we  know 
are  met  or  warded  off  by  this  sun-bath. 
We  know  it  now.  Not  long  ago  we  had 
no  fuller  information  than  had  Banner- 
tail  on  such  things.  We  knew  only  that 
it  felt  good  at  the  time  and  left  us  feel- 
ing better;  so  we  took  it,  as  he  took  it, 
when  the  need  of  the  body  called  for  it, 
and  ceased  as  he  did,  when  the  body  no 
longer  desired  it. 


[  102 


THE  WARDEN  MEETS  AN 
INVADER 


CHAPTER  XVI 

THE   WARDEN   MEETS   AN 
INVADER 

-^^^HE  bond  between  them  had 
kept  Bannertail  near  his 
mate,  and  her  warning  kept 
him  not  too  near.  Yet  it 
was  his  daily  wont  to  come 
to  the  nesting  tree  and  wait  about,  in 
case  of  anything,  he  knew  not  what. 
Thus  it  was  that  he  heard  a  rustling 
in  the  near-by  limbs  one  day,  then 
caught  a  flash  of  red.  A  stranger  ap- 
proaching the  tree  of  trees.  All  Ban- 
nertail's  fighting  blood  was  aroused.  He 
leaped  by  well-known  jumps,  and  coursed 
along  well-known  overways,  till  he  was 
on  the  nesting  tree,  and  undulated  like  a 
[105] 


Bannertail 

silvery  shadow  up  the  familiar  trunk  to 
find  himself  facing  the  very  Redsquirrel 
whose  range  he  once  had   entered   and 
from    whom    he,    Bannertail,    had    fled. 
But  what  a  change  of  situation  and  of 
heart !     Redhead  scoffed  and  shook  his 
flaming  tail.     He  shrieked  his  ''skit,  skit'* 
and  stood  prepared  to  fight.     Did  Ban- 
nertail hold  back  —  he,  Bannertail,  that 
formerly  had  declined  the  combat  with 
this  very  rogue?     Not  for  an  instant. 
illO    There  was  new-engendered  power  within 
^     ;    compelling  him.     He  sprang  on  the  Red 
<;    j   bandit  with  all  his  vigor  and  drove  his 
.^    /    teeth    in    deep.     The    Redhead    was    a 
^^ ,,-  ^  — >,         }    /     fighter,  too.     He  clinched  and  bit.     They 
\A     '■^\^y'^  J       clung,  wrestled  and  stabbed,  then,  losing 
'if^V  ..^         \io\6.  of  the  tree,   went  hurling  to  the 

/'     r^  "'^      earth  below.     In  air  they  flung  apart, 
'•••—  i'  but  landing  unhurt  they  clinched  again 

,.y;;^    "  on  the  ground;  then  the  Redhead,  bleed- 

,,i''^.-Tr'-'  ing  from  many  little  wounds,  and  over- 

(      '^^^ 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

matched,  sought  to  escape,  dodged  this 
way  and  that,  found  refuge  in  a  hole 
under  a  root;  and  Bannertail,  breathless, 
with  two  or  three  slight  stabs,  swung 
slowly  up  the  tree  from  which  Silvergray 
had  watched  the  fight  of  her  mate. 

There  never  yet  was  feminine  heart 
that  withheld  its  meed  of  worship  from 
her  fighting  champion  coming  home  vic- 
torious—which reason  may  not  have  en- 
tered into  it  at  all.  But  this  surely 
counted:  The  young  ones'  eyes  were 
opened,  they  were  no  longer  shapeless 
lumps  of  flesh.  They  were  fuzzy  little 
Squirrels.  The  time  had  come  for  the 
father  to  rejoin  the  brood. 

With  the  come-together  instinct  that 
follows  fight,  he  climbed  to  the  very 
doorway;  she  met  him  there,  whisker  to 
whisker.  She  reached  out  and  licked 
his  wounded  shoulder;  when  she  reen- 
tered the  den  he  came  in  too;  nosing 
[107  J 


Banner  tail 

his  brood  to  get  their  smell,  just  as  a 
woman  mother  buries  her  nose  in  the 
creasy  neck  of  her  baby;  he  gently 
curled  about  them  all,  and  the  reunited 
family  went  sound  asleep  in  their  single 
double  bed. 


[108] 


THE  HOODOO  ON  THE  HOME 


CHAPTER  XVII 
THE   HOODOO   ON   THE   HOME 

?0T  many  days  later  they  had 
a  new  unfriendly  visitor.  It 
was  in  the  morning  rest  hour 
that  follows  early  breakfast. 
The  familiar  cluck,  cluck  of  a 
Flicker  had  sounded  from  a  near  tree-top. 
Then  his  stirring  tattoo  was  heard  on  a 
high  dead  limb  of  the  one  tree.  A  little 
later  a  scratching  sound,  and  the  hole 
above  was  darkened  by  the  head  and 
shoulders  of  a  big  bird  peering  down  at 
them  through  the  opening.  His  long, 
sharp  beak  was  opened  to  utter  a  loud 
startling  "clape!"  Up  leaped  Banner- 
tail  to  meet  and  fight  off  the  invader. 
There  was  little  fighting  to  be  done,  for 

[  111  1 


Bannertail 

the  Flicker  sprang  back,  and  on  to  a 
high  limb.  His  fighting  feathers  were 
raised,  and  his  threatening  beak  did 
look  very  dangerous,  but  he  did  not 
wait  for  Bannertail  to  spring  on  him. 
He  swooped  away  in  a  glory  of  yellow 
wings,  and  with  a  chuckle  of  derision. 
It  was  a  small  incident,  but  it  made  a 
second  break  in  their  sense  of  secrecy. 

Then  came  another  little  shock.  The 
Bluejay,  the  noisy  mischief-maker,  was 
prowling  around  the  farmhouse,  and  high 
on  a  ledge  he  found  a  handful  of  big  horse- 
chestnuts  gathered  by  the  boy  **to  throw 
at  cats."  Had  he  been  hungry  the  Jay 
would  have  eaten  them,  but  choice  food 
was  plentiful,  so  now  his  storage  in- 
stincts took  charge.  The  Bluejay  nearly 
sprained  his  bill  getting  a  hold  on  a  nut, 
then  carried  it  off,  looking  for  a  hollow 
tree  in  which  to  hide  it,  as  is  the  custom 
of  his  kind.  The  hole  he  found  was  the 
[112] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 


Squirrel's  nest.  He  meant  to  take  a  good 
look  in  before  dropping  it,  but  the  nut 
was  big  and  heavy,  smooth  and  round. 
It  slipped  from  his  beak  plump  into  the 
sleeping  family,  landing  right  on  Banner- 
tail's  nose.  Up  he  jumped  with  a  snort 
and  rushed  to  the  door.  The  Bluejay 
was  off  at  a  safe  distance,  and  chortled  a 
loud  ''Tooral,  tooral,  jay,  jay!''  in  mis- 
chievous mockery,  then  flew  away.  Ban- 
nertail  might  have  taken  that  nut  for  a 
friendly  gift,  but  its  coming  showed  that 
the  den  was  over-visible.  There  was 
something  wrong  with  it. 

Later  the  very  same  day,  the  Bluejay 
did  this  same  thing  with  another  big 
chestnut.  Evidently  now  he  enjoyed  the 
commotion  that  followed  the  dropping  of 
the  nut. 

One  day  later  came  a  still  more  disturb- 
ing event.  A  roving,  prowling  cur  found 
the  fresh  Squirrel  track  up  the  tree,  and 
[113] 


Banner  tail 

''yapped"  so  persistently  that  two  boys 
who  were  leagued  with  the  dog  for  all 
manner  of  evil,  came,  marked  the  hole 
and  spent  half  an  hour  throwing  stones 
at  it,  varying  their  volleys  with  heavy 
pounding  on  the  trunk  to  ''make  the 
Squirrel  come  out." 

Of  course,  neither  Bannertail  nor  Sil- 
vergray  did  show  themselves.  That  is 
very  old  wood -wisdom.  "Lay  low,  keep 
out  of  sight  when  the  foe  is  on  the  war- 
path." And  at  last  the  besiegers  and 
their  yap-colleague  tramped  away  with- 
out having  seen  sign  or  hair  of  a  Squirrel. 

There  was  very  little  to  the  inci- 
dent, but  it  sank  deep  into  Silvergray's 
small  brain.  "This  nest  is  ill-concealed. 
Every  hostile  creature  finds  it." 

There  was  yet   another  circumstance 

that  urged  action.     Shall  I  tell  it  ?     It  is 

so  unpicturesque.     A  Squirrel's  nest  is  a 

breeding-ground  for  vermin;  a  nest  that 

[114] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

is  lined  with  soft  grass,  feathers,  and 
wool  becomes  a  swarming  hive.  Banner- 
tail's  farm  upbringing  had  made  him  all 
too  familiar  with  feathers  and  wool.  His 
contribution  to  the  home  furnishing  had 
been  of  the  kind  that  guaranteed  a  para- 
sitic scourge.  This  thing  he  had  not 
learned  —  for  it  is  instilled  by  the  smell 
of  their  mother  nest  —  cedar  bark  and 
sassafras  leaves,  with  their  pungent  oils, 
are  needed  to  keep  the  irritating  vermin 
swarm  away.  And  Silvergray,  was  she 
at  fault  ?  Only  in  this,  the  purifying  bark 
and  leaves  were  scarce.  She  was  weak 
compared  with  Bannertail.  His  contri- 
butions had  so  far  outpointed  hers  that 
the  nest  had  become  unbearable.  Their 
only  course  was  to  abandon  it. 


[115] 


THE  NEW  HOME 


CHAPTER  XVIII 
THE  NEW  HOME 

-^^WICE  a  day  now  Silvergray 
left  the  little  ones,  to  forage 
for  herself,  soon  after  sun- 
rise and  just  before  sunset. 
It  was  on  the  morning  out- 
ing that  she  went  house  hunting.  And 
Bannertail  went  too.  Ever  he  led  to  the 
cosey  home  in  his  old  red  oak.  But  there  is 
a  right  that  is  deeply  rooted  in  custom,  in 
logic,  and  in  female  instinct,  that  it  is  the 
she-one's  privilege  to  select,  prepare,  and 
own  the  home.  Every  suggestion  that  he 
made  by  offered  lead  or  actual  entry,  was 
scorned  and  the  one  who  made  it,  snubbed. 
She  did  her  own  selecting,  and,  strangest 
thing  of  all,  she  chose  the  rude  stick  nest 

[119] 


<!^'i%^^2^ 


Bannertail 

of  a  big-winged  Hawk,  abandoned  now, 
for  the  Hawk  himself,  with  his  long- 
clawed  mate,  was  nailed  to  the  end  of 
the  bam. 

Winter  storm  and  beaming  sun  had 
purged  and  purified  the  rough  old  aerie; 
it  was  high  on  a  most  unclimbable  tree, 
yet  sheltered  in  the  wood,  and  here  Sil- 
vergray  halted  in  her  search.  All  about 
the  nest  and  tree  she  climbed,  and  smelled 
to  find  the  little  owner  marks,  of  musk  or 
rasping  teeth,  if  such  there  should  be — 
the  marks  that  would  have  warned  her 
that  this  place  was  already  possessed. 
But  none  there  were.  The  place  was 
without  taint,  bore  only  through  and 
through  the  clean,  sweet  odor  of  the  woods 
and  wood. 

And  this  is  how  she  took  possession: 

She  rubbed  her  body  on  the  rim  of  the 

nest,  she  nibbled  off  projecting  twiglets, 

she  climbed  round  and  round  the  trunk 

[120] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

below  and  above,  thus  leaving  her  foot 
and  body  scent  everywhere  about,  then 
gathered  a  great  mouthful  of  springtime 
twigs,  with  their  soft  green  leaves,  and 
laid  them  in  the  Hawk  nest  for  the  floor- 
cloth of  her  own. 

She  went  farther,  and  found  a  sassa- 
fras, with  its  glorious  flaming  smell  of 
incense,  its  redolence  of  aromatic  purity, 
and  with  a  little  surge  of  joy  instinctive 
she  gathered  bundle  after  bundle  of  the 
sweet,  strong  twigs,  spread  them  out  for 
the  rug  and  matting  of  the  house.  And 
Bannertail  did  the  same,  and  for  a  while 
they  worked  in  harmony.  Then  was 
struck  a  harsh,  discordant  note. 

Crossing  the  forest  floor  Bannertail 
found  a  rag,  a  mitten  that  some  winter 
woodcutter  had  cast  away,  and,  still  ob- 
sessed with  the  nursery  garnish  of  his  own 
farm-kitten  days,  he  pounced  on  this  and 
bore  it  gleefully  to  the  nest  that  they  were 
[121] 


Bannertail 

abuilding.  And  Silvergray,  what  said 
she,  as  the  evil  thing  was  brought?  She 
had  no  clear  ideas,  no  logic  from  the  other 
ill-starred  home.  She  could  not  say: 
"There  was  hoodoo  on  it,  and  this  ragged 
woollen  mitt  seems  hoodoo-like  to  me." 
But  these  were  her  strange  reactions. 
"The  smell  of  that  other  nest  was  like 
this;  that  smell  is  linked  with  every  evil 
memory.  I  do  not  want  it  here."  Her 
instinct,  the  inherited  wisdom  of  her  fore- 
bears, indorsed  this  view,  and  as  she 
sniffed  and  sniffed,  the  smell  inspired  her 
with  intense  hostility,  a  hostility  that  in 
the  other  nest  was  somewhat  offset  by  the 
smell  of  her  loved  brood,  but  this  was  not 
—  it  was  wholly  strange  and  hostile. 
Her  neck  hair  rose,  her  tail  trembled  a 
little,  as,  acting  under  the  new  and  grow- 
ing impulse  of  violent  dislike,  she  hurled 
the  offending  rag  far  from  the  threshold 
of  her  nest.  Flop  it  went  to  thfe  ground 
[122] 


The  Stor^  of  a  Gra^squirrel 

below.  And  Bannertail,  not  quite  under- 
standing, believed  this  to  be  an  accident. 
Down  he  went  as  fast  as  his  fast  feet 
could  carry  him,  seized  on  the  ragged 
mitten,  brought  it  again  to  the  home- 
building.  But  the  instinct  that  had  been 
slow  arousing  was  now  dominant  in  Sil- 
vergray.  With  an  angry  chatter  she 
hurled  the  accursed  thing  afar,  and  made 
it  clear  by  snort  and  act  that  "such  things 
come  not  there," 

This  was  the  strenuous  founding  of  the 
new  nest,  and  these  were  among  the 
hidden  springs  of  action  and  of  un- 
shaped  thoughts  that  ruled  the  founding. 

The  nest  was  finished  in  three  days.  A 
rain  roof  over  all  of  fresh  flat  leaves,  an 
inner  lining  of  chewed  cedar  bark,  an 
abundance  of  aromatic  sassafras,  one  or 
two  little  quarrels  over  accidental  rags 
that  Bannertail  still  seemed  to  think 
worth  while.  But  the  new  nest  was  fin- 
[123] 


Bannertail 

ished,  pure  and  sweet  with  a  consecrating, 
plague-defying  aroma  of  cedar  and  of  sas- 
safras to  be  its  guardian  angel. 


■j^ 


:y>v 


[  124 


THE  MOVING  OF  THE  YOUNG 


CHAPTER  XIX 
THE  MOVING  OF  THE  YOUNG 

[T  was  very  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, soon  after  sunrise,  that 
they  took  the  hazard  of 
moving  the  young.  Silver- 
gray  had  fed  the  babies  and 
looked  out  and  about,  and  had  come  back 
and  looked  again.  Then,  picking  up  the 
nearest  by  the  scruff  of  its  neck,  she  rose 
to  the  doorway.  Now  a  great  racket 
sounded  in  the  woods.  Silvergray  backed 
in  again  and  down,  dropped  the  young 
one,  then  put  her  head  out.  The  noise 
increased,  the  trampling  of  heavy  feet. 
She  backed  till  only  her  nose  was  out,  and 
watched.  Soon  there  came  in  view  huge 
[127] 


Bannertail 

red-and-white  creatures  with  horns.  She 
had  often  seen  them,  and  held  them 
harmless,  but  why  were  they  moving  so 
fast?  There  were  other  noises  coming, 
much  smaller,  indeed,  but  oh,  how  much 
more  dangerous  were  the  two  that  fol- 
lowed and  drove  the  herd  ! — a  tow-topped 
boy  and  a  yellow-coated  dog.  At  war 
with  all  the  world  of  harmless  wood-folk, 
these  two  would  leave  a  trail  of  slaugh- 
tered bodies  in  their  wake,  if  only  their 
weapons  were  as  deadly  as  their  wishes. 
So  Silvergray  sank  back  and  brooded  over 
the  nursery,  varying  her  loving  mother- 
ing with  violent  scratching  of  a  hind  foot, 
or  sudden  pounce  to  capture  with  her 
teeth  some  shiny,  tiny  creeping  thing 
among  the  bed  stuff  or  on  the  young  ones' 
fluffy  skins. 

The  sun  was  up  above  the  trees.     The 
Bluejay   sang   "Too -root -el -too -root -el,'' 
which  means,  "all  clear."    And  the  glad 
[128] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel     -^^>-- 

Red  Singing-Hawk  was  wheeling  in  great 
rhythmic  swoops  to  the  sound  of  his 
own  wild  note,  '' Kyo-kyo-kyoooo.'"  He 
wheeled  and  rejoiced  in  his  song  and  his 
flight. 

"All's  clear!  All's  well!"  sang  Crow 
and  Bluejay  —  these  watchful  ones, 
watchful,  perforce,  because  their  ways 
of  rapine  have  filled  the  world  with  en- 
emies. And  Silvergray  prepared  a  sec- 
ond time  for  the  perilous  trip.  She  took 
the  nearest  of  her  babies,  gently  but 
firmly,  and,  scrambling  to  the  door, 
paused  to  look  and  listen,  then  took  the 
final  plunge,  went  scurrying  and  scram- 
bling down  the  trunk.  On  the  ground 
she  paused  again,  looked  forward  and 
back,  then  to  the  old  nest  to  see  her  mate 
go  in  and  come  out  again  with  a  young 
one  in  his  mouth,  as  though  he  knew  ex- 
actly what  was  doing  and  how  his  help 
was  needed.  With  an  angry  "Quare!'' 
[129] 


Bannertail 

she  turned  and  scrambled  up  again, 
bumping  the  baby  she  bore  with  many  a 
needless  jolt,  and  met  Bannertail.  Noth- 
ing less  than  rage  was  in  her  voice, 
"Quare,  quare,  quare!'*  and  she  sprang  at 
him.  He  could  not  fail  to  understand. 
He  dropped  the  baby  on  a  broad,  safe 
crotch,  and  whisked  away  to  turn  and 
gaze  with  immeasurable  surprise.  "Isn't 
that  what  you  wanted,  you  hothead  ?  "  he 
seemed  to  say.  "Didn't  we  plan  to  move 
the  kids?"  Her  only  answer  was  a  hiss- 
ing "  Quare!''  She  rushed  to  the  stranded 
little  one,  made  one  or  two  vain  efforts  to 
carry  it,  as  well  as  the  one  already  in  her 
,.  .,,    ..  mouth,   then  bounded  back  to  the  old 

ry<^.   i  '•./■"^    home  with  her  own  charge,  dropped  it, 
/'     r^J  ^M^  >.    came  rushing  back  for  the  second,  took 


.\'  \  that  home,  too,  then  vented  all  her  wrath 

\>  and  warnings   in   a   loud,  long  "Qua!" 

which    plainly    meant:    "You    let    the 

kids  alone.     I  don't  need  your  help.     I 

[  130  ] 


WliH  AN  ANokY  "qIARE!"  SILVERGRAY  SCRAMBLED  L"P  AGAIN 


The  Story  of  a  Gra^squirrel 

wouldn't  trust  you.  This  is  a  mother's 
job." 

She  stayed  and  brooded  over  them  a 
long  time  before  making  the  third  at- 
tempt. And  this  time  the  impulse  came 
from  the  tickling  crawlers  in  the  bed. 
She  looked  forth,  saw  Bannertail  sitting 
up  high,  utterly  bewildered.  She  gave  a 
great  warning  "Qua!"  seized  number  one 
for  the  third  time,  and  forth  she  leaped 
to  make  the  great  migration. 

The  wood  was  silent  except  for  its 
own  contented  life,  and  she  got  half-way 
to  the  new  nest,  when  high  on  a  broad, 
safe  perch  she  paused  and  set  her  burden 
down.  Was  it  the  maddening  tickling  of 
a  crawler  that  gave  the  hint,  or  was  it 
actual  wisdom  in  the  lobes  behind  those 
liquid  eyes?  Who  knows?  Only  this  is 
sure,  she  looked  that  baby  over  from  end 
to  end.  She  hunted  out  and  seized  in  her 
teeth  and  ground  to  shreds  ten  of  the 

[131] 


Bannertail 

plaguing  crawlers.  She  combed  herself, 
she  scratched  and  searched  her  coat  from 
head  to  tail,  and  on  her  neck,  where  she 
could  not  see,  she  combed  and  combed, 
till  of  this  she  was  certain,  no  insects  of 
the  tickling,  teasing  kind  were  going  with 
her  to  the  new  home.  Then  seizing  her 
baby  by  the  neck-scruff,  up  she  bounded, 
and  in  ten  heart-beats  he  was  lying  in 
their  new  and  fragrant  bed. 

For  a  little  while  she  cuddled  him  there, 
to  "bait  him  to  it,"  as  the  woodsmen  say. 
Then,  with  a  parting  licking  of  his  head, 
she  quit  the  nest  and  hied  away  for  the 
rest  of  the  brood. 

Bannertail  had  taken  the  hint.  He 
was  still  up  high,  watching,  but  not  going 
near  the  old  nest. 

Silvergray  took  number  two  and  did 

the  very  same  with  him,  deloused  him 

thoroughly  on  the  same  old  perch,  then 

left  him  with  the  first.     The  third  went 

[132] 


■':■</.' 


\ 


n         f .  N 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

through  the  same.     And  Silvergray  was 

curled  up  with  the  three  in  the  new  high 

nest    for    long,   before    Bannertail,   after 

much  patient,  watchful  waiting,  seeing  no 

return  of  Silvergray,  went  swinging  to  the     'vv-  _  / 

old  nest  to  peep  in,  and  realized  that  it     f^; 

was  empty,  cold,  abandoned.  \l:^ 

He  sat  and  thought  it  over.     On  a  high,       v^l  ^ 
sunny  perch  that  he  had  often  used,  he 
made  his  toilet,   as  does   every  healthy  j 

Squirrel,  thoroughly  combed  his  coat  and  '  *  ^ 

captured  all,  that  is,  one  or  two  of  the  /     ^ 

crawlers  that  had  come  from  the  old  nest.  \  ^      ^ 

He  drank  of  the  spring,  went  foraging  for  j  ^        \ 

a   while,  then   swung  to   the   new-made  '  '        , 

nest  and  shyly,  cautiously,  dreading  a  re-  i 

buff,   went   slowly  in.     Yes,   there  they  '^  ^ 

were.  But  would  she  take  him  in?  He 
uttered  the  low,  soft,  coaxing  "  Er-er-er- 
er,"  which  expresses  every  gentleness  in 
the  range  of  Squirrel  thought  and  feeling. 
No  answer.  He  made  no  move,  but 
[133] 


Bannertail 

again  gave  a  coaxing  ''Er-er-er"  a  long 
pause,  then  from  the  hovering  furry  form 
in  the  nest  came  one  soft  ''Er,'*  and 
Bannertail,  without  reserve,  glided  in 
and  curled  about  them  all. 


[134] 


THE  COMING-OUT  PARTY 


CHAPTER  XX 
THE  COMING-OUT  PARTY 

iPRIL,  the  Green -grass 
Moon,  was  nearly  gone,  the 
Graycoats  in  their  new  high 
home  were  flourishing  and 
growing.  Happy  and  re- 
united now,  it  was  an  event  like  a  young 
girl's  coming-out,  when  first  these  Squir- 
relets  came  forth  from  the  nest  "on  their 
own,"  and  crawling  on  their  trembling 
legs,  with  watchful  mother  nigh.  They  one 
by  one  scrambled  on  to  the  roof  of  the 
home,  and,  with  a  general  air  of  "Aren't 
we  big;  aren't  we  wonderful?"  they 
stretched  and  basked  in  the  bright  warm 
morning  sun. 

[137] 


Bannertail 


r7 


r  v^ 


A  Hawk  came  wheeling  high  over  the 
tree  tops.  He  was  not  hunting,  for  he 
wheeled  and  whistled  as  he  wheeled.  Sil- 
vergray  knew  him  well,  and  marked  his 
ample  wings.  She  had  seen  a  Redtail 
raid.  This  might  not  be  of  the  bandit 
kind,  but  a  Hawk  is  a  Hawk.  She  gave 
a  low,  warning  "Chik,  chik"  to  the  fam- 
ily, to  which  they  paid  not  a  whit  of  at- 
tention. So  she  seized  each  in  turn  by 
the  handy  neck-scruff,  and  bundled  him 
indoors  to  safety. 

Three  times  this  took  place  on  different 
days.  Three  times  the  mother's  vigorous 
lug  home  was  needed,  and  by  now  the  les- 
son was  learned.  '^Chik,  chik^^  meant 
"Look  out;  danger;  get  home." 

They  were  growing  fast  now.  Their 
coats  were  sleek  and  gray.  Their  tails 
were  as  yet  poor  skimps  of  things,  but 
their  paws  were  strong  and  their  claws 
were  sharp  as  need  be.  They  could 
[138] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

scramble  all  about  the  old  Hawk  nest  and 
up  and  down  the  rugged  bark  of  the  near 
trunk.  Their  different  dispositions  began 
to  show  as  well  as  their  different  gifts  and 
make-up. 


[  139 


NURSERY  DAYS  OF  THE   YOUNG 
ONES 


CHAPTER  XXI 

NURSERY  DAYS  OF  THE  YOUNG 
ONES 

•QUIRRELS    do    not    name 

their  babies  as  we  do;  they 

do  not  think   of  them   by 

names;  and  yet  each  one  is 

itself,  has  individual  looks 
or  ways  that  stand  for  that  one  in  the 
mother's  mind,  so  is  in  some  sort  its  name. 
Thus  the  biggest  one  had  a  very  brown  "^i  jV 

head    and    a   very    gray   coat.     He   was     , ;/"      ^^Va 
stronger  than  the  others,  could  leap  just     'rj      ^^^      ^:  -I 
a  little  farther  and  was  not  so  ready  to  '  J^^l  \'^|       I 
bite  when  playing  with  the  rest.     The         V 'a  '*  ^l^'vC^^' 
second  brother  was  not  so  big  as  Brown-  'ly.       '-4- 

head,  and  he  had  an  impatient  way  of  "^vn-xN 

rebelling  at  any  little  thing  that  did  not 
[143] 


r--  i  ■ 


Bannertail 

please  him.  He  would  explode  into  a 
shrill  '^Cray!''  which  was  a  well-known 
Squirrel  exclamation,  only  he  made  it 
very  thin  and  angry.  Even  to  father  and 
mother  he  would  shriek  ''Cray!^'  if  they 
did  in  the  least  a  thing  that  was  not  to 
his  wish. 

The  third  and  smallest  was  a  little  girl- 
Squirrel,  very  shy  and  gentle.  She  loved 
to  be  petted  and  would  commonly  snug- 
gle up  to  mother,  whining  softly,  ''Nyek, 
nyek'^  even  when  her  brothers  were  play- 
ing, as  well  as  at  feeding-time.  So  in  this 
sort  they  named  themselves,  Brownhead, 
Cray,  and  Nyek-nyek. 

The  first  lesson  in  all  young  wild  life  is 
this,  '*  Do  as  you  are  told  " ;  the  penalty  of 
disobedience  is  death,  not  always  imme- 
diate, not  clearly  consequent,  but  soon  or 
late  it  comes.  This  indeed  is  the  law, 
driven  home  and  clinched  by  ages  of  ex- 
perience: "Obey  or  die." 
[  144] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

If  the  family  is  outstretched  in  the  sun, 
and  keen-eyed  mother  sees  a  Hawk,  she 
says,  "  Chik,  chik,"  and  the  wise  little  ones 
come  home.  They  obey  and  live.  The 
rebellious  one  stays  out,  and  the  Hawk 
picks  him  up,  a  pleasant  meal. 

If  the  family  is  scrambling  about  the 
tree  trunk  and  one  attempts  to  climb  a 
long,  smooth  stretch,  from  which  the 
bark  has  fallen,  mother  cries  ''Chik,  chik,'* 
warning  that  he  is  going  into  danger. 
The  obedient  one  comes  back  and  lives. 
The  unruly  one  goes  on.  There  is  no 
clawhold  on  such  trunks.  He  falls  far 
to  the  ground  and  pays  the  price. 

If  one  is  being  carried  from  a  place  of 
danger,  and  hangs  limp  and  submissive 
from  his  mother's  mouth,  he  is  quickly 
landed  in  a  place  of  safety.  But  one 
that  struggles  and  rebels,  may  be  cut  by 
mother's  tightening  teeth,  or  dropped  by 
her  and  seized  on  by  some  enemy  at 
[145] 


Bannerlail 

hand.  There  are  always  enemies  alert 
for  such  a  chance.  Or  if  he  swings  to 
drink  at  the  familiar  spring  and  sees  not 
what  mother  sees,  a  Blacksnake  lurking 
on  a  log,  or  heeds  not  her  sharp  "Keep 
back,"  he  goes,  and  maybe  takes  a  single 
sip,  but  it  is  his  last. 

If  one,  misled  by  their  bright  color, 

persists    in    eating    fruit    of  the    deadly 

nightshade,    ignoring   mother's   warning, 

"Quare,  quare!"  he  eats,  he  has  willed  to 

eat;  and  there  is  a  little  Squirrel  body 

tumbled  from  the  nest  next  day,  to  claim 

the  kindly  care  of  growing  plants  and 

:^{,   J  drifting  leaves  that  will  hide  it  from  the 

f  view. 

/^yf  y^  Yes,  this  is  the  law,  older  than  the  day 

'sji/^  'r^  when  the  sun  gave  birth  to  our  earth  that 

^j^-^f  it  might  go  its  own  way  yet  still  be  held 

^     '^  >y^         in  law:  "  Obey  and  live;  rebel  and  die." 


k 


( 


^,     ^'  ^ 


CRAY  HUNTS  FOR   TROUBLE 


CHAPTER  XXII 
CRAY   HUNTS   FOR   TROUBLE 

BOISTEROUS,  strong,  and 
merry  was  Brownhead,  the 
very  son  of  his  father. 
Eager  to  do  and  ready  to 
go;  and  yet  quick  to  hear 
when  the  warning  came,  "Quare,''  or  the 
home  call,  ''Chik,  cliikr  Well-fleshed 
was  he  and  deeply  fur -clad,  although  it  was 
scarcely  mid-May,  and  his  tail  already  was 
past  the  switch  stage  and  was  frilling  out 
with  the  silver  frill  of  his  best  kin.  Frolic- 
some, merry,  and  shy,  very  shy  was  Nyek- 
nyek.  In  some  speech  she  would  have 
been  styled  a  "mammy  pet."  Happy 
with  mother,  playing  with  her  brothers, 
but  ever  ready  to  go  to  mother.  Slight 
[149    ] 


/i) 


♦?.. 


I;.  >H<IMt 


Vv 


Bannertail 

of  body,  but  quick  to  move,  quick  to  fol- 
low, and  nervously  quick  to  obey,  she  grew 
and  learned  the  learning  of  her  folk. 

Last  was  Cray,  quickest  of  them  all, 
not  so  heavy  as  Brownhead,  yet  agile,  in- 
quisitive, full  of  energy,  but  a  rebel  all 
the  time.  He  would  climb  that  long, 
smooth  column  above  the  nest.  His 
mother's  warning  held  him  not.  And 
when  the  clawhold  failed  he  slipped,  but 
jumped  and  landed  safe  on  a  near  limb. 

He  would  go  forth  to  investigate  the 
loud  trampling  in  the  woods,  and  far  be-' 
low  him  watched  with  eager  curiosity  the 
big,  two-legged  thing  that  soon  discovered 
him.  Then  there  was  a  loud  crack  like  a 
heavy  limb  broken  by  the  wind,  and  the 
bark  beside  his  head  was  splintered  by  a 
blow  that  almost  stunned  him  with  its 
shock,  although  it  did  not  touch  him. 
He  barely  escaped  into  the  nest.  Yes,  he 
still  escaped. 

[  150  ] 


THE  LITTLE  SQUIRRELS  GO   TO 
SCHOOL 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

THE   LITTLE   SQUIRRELS   GO 
TO   SCHOOL 

HESE  are  among  the  lessons 
that  a  mother  Squirrel,  by- 
example,  teaches,  and  that 
in  case  of  failure  are  em- 
phasized by  many  little  re- 
proofs of  voice,  or  even  blows: 

Clean  your  coat,  and  extra-clean  your 
tail;  fluff  it  out,  try  its  trig  suppleness, 
wave  it,  plume  it,  comb  it,  clean  it;  but 
ever  remember  it,  for  it  is  your  beauty 
and  your  life. 

When  there  is  danger  on  the  ground, 

such  as  the  trampling  of  heavy  feet,  do 

not  go  to  spy  it  out,  but  hide.     If  near 

a  hole,  pop  in;  if  on  a  big  high  limb,  lie 

[153] 


l^ULES 


M  A  n  M  A 


Banner  tail 

flat  and  still  as  death.  Do  not  go  to  it. 
Let  it  come  to  you,  if  it  will. 

In  the  air,  if  there  is  danger  near,  as 
from  Hawks,  do  not  .stop  until  you  have 
at  least  got  into  a  dense  thicket,  or,  better 
still,  a  hole. 

If  you  find  a  nut  when  you  are  not 
hungry,  bury  it  for  future  use.  Never- 
theless this  lesson  counted  for  but  little 
now,  as  all  last  year's  nuts  were  gone, 
and  this  year's  far  ahead. 

If  you  must  travel  on  the  ground,  stop 
every  little  while  at  some  high  place  to, 
look  around,  and  fail  not  then  each  time 
to  fluff  and  jerk  your  tail. 

When  in  the  distant  limbs  you  see 
something  that  may  be  friend  or  foe, 
keep  out  of  sight,  but  flirt  your  white 
tail  tip  in  his  view.  If  it  be  a  Gray  coat, 
it  will  answer  with  the  same,  the  wigwag: 
"I'm  a  Squirrel,  too." 

Learn  and  practise,  also,  the  far  jumps 
[154] 


IHfc.  LiriLK  .lyLIRRELS  AT  SCHOOL 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

from  tree  to  tree.  You'll  surely  need 
them  some  day.  They  are  the  only  cer- 
tain answer  to  the  Red-eyed  Fury  that 
lives  on  Mice,  but  that  can  kill  Squirrels, 
too,  if  he  catches  them;  that  climbs  and 
jumps,  but  cannot  jump  so  far  as  the 
Gray  coats,  and  dare  not  fall  from  high, 
for  he  has  no  plumy  tail,  nothing  but  a 
useless  little  tag. 

Drink  twice  a  day  from  the  running 
stream,  never  from  the  big  pond  in  which 
the  grinning  Pike  and  mighty  Snapper 
lie  in  wait.  Go  not  in  the  heat  of  the  day, 
for  then  the  Blacksnake  is  lurking  near, 
and  quicker  is  he  even  than  a  Squirrel, 
on  the  ground. 

Go  not  at  dusk,  for  then  the  Fox  and 
the  Mink  are  astir.  Go  not  by  night, 
for  then  is  the  Owl  on  the  war-path,  silent 
as  a  shadow;  he  is  far  more  to  be  feared 
than  the  swish-winged  Hawk.  Drink 
then  at  sunrise  and  before  sunset,  and 
[155] 


Banner  tail 

ever  from  a  solid  log  or  stone  which  af- 
fords good  footing  for  a  needed  sudden 
jump.  And  remember  ever  that  safety 
is  in  the  tree  tops— in  this  and  in  lying 
low. 

These  were  the  lessons  they  slowly 
learned,  not  at  any  stated  time  or 
place,  but  each  when  the  present  doings 
gave  it  point.  Brownhead  was  quick 
and  learned  almost  overfast;  and  his  tail 
responding  to  his  daily  care  was  worthy 
of  a  grown-up.  Lithe,  graceful  Nyek- 
nyek  too,  was  growing  wood -wise.  Cray 
was  quick  for  a  time.  He  would  learn 
well  at  a  new  lesson,  then,  devising  some 
method  of  his  own,  would  go  ahead  and 
break  the  rules.  His  mother's  warning 
"Quare''  held  him  back  not  at  all.  And 
his  father's  onslaught  with  a  nip  of 
powerful  teeth  only  stirred  him  to  re- 
bellious fight. 

[  156  ] 


THE  LOPPIXG  OF  THE  WAYWARD 
BRAXCH 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


THE    LOPPING   OF   THE   WAY- 
WARD   BRANCH 

^URIOSITY  may  be  the  trail 
to  knowledge,  but  it  skirts  a 
dangerous  cliff.  The  Rose 
moon,  June,  was  on  the  hills, 
its  thrill  joy  set  the  whole 
wood  world  joy-thrilling.  The  Banner- 
tail  family  had  frolicked  in  a  game  of  tag- 
and-catch  all  around  the  old  Hawk  nest, 
and  up  the  long  smooth  pole  went  Cray 
to  show  that  he  could  do  it.  His  mother 
warned  him,  ''Quare!^'  but  up  he  went, 
and  down  he  came  without  a  hint  of 
failure.  Then  they  scattered,  scamper- 
ing for  a  game  of  hide-and-seek,  when  the 
heavy  sound  of  some  big  brute  a-coming 
[159] 


O 


Bannertail 

was  wind-borne  to  them.  The  mother 
gave  the  warning  '*  Chik."  Three  of  them 
quickly  got  to  the  safe  old  nest.  Silver- 
gray  flattened  on  the  up  side  of  a  rugged 
limb;  Cray,  seeing  nothing  near,  and 
scoffing  at  their  flurry,  made  for  a  big 
crotch  into  which  he  could  sink  from 
sight  if  need  be,  and  waited.  In  vain  his 
mother  cried,  ''Chik";  Cray  wouldn't 
"chik'^;  he  wanted  to  know  what  it  was 
all  about.  The  heavy  trampling  sound 
came  near.  Silvergray  peeped  over  and 
could  see  very  well;  it  was  the  two-legged 
Brute  with  the  yellow  yapping  four-legs 
that  she  more  than  once  had  met  before. 
They  rambled  slashingly  around;  the 
Yap-cur  eagerly  wagging  his  hideous  tail. 
He  swung  his  black  snout  in  the  air,  gave 
out  a  long  "  Yap!"  another  and  another. 
Then  the  Two-legs  came  slowly  nearer, 
staring  up  into  the  rooftrees  and  moving 
awkwardly  sidewise  round  and  round  the 
[160] 


CkAV    >.\NK  —  A    Wi    1  I M     Ml    iii-^    iiil.L\ 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

tree.  Cray  peered  out  farther  to  watch 
him.  In  vain  the  wise  little  mother 
Squirrel  whispered  "Chik,  chikf  No, 
he  would  not  ''cJiik."  As  the  Ground- 
brute  circled  the  tree,  Cray,  trying  to  \1[  if'^^W  l^'-^ 
keep  him  in  sight,  quit  all  attempt  at  l\i.'"  '^^/ //^^^' 
hiding.  The  yellow  four-legs  yapped  ex- 
citedly. Then  the  big  Ground-brute  held 
very  still.  Cray  was  amused  at  this;  he 
felt  so  safe  that  he  called  out  a  derisive 
"Qua!''  There  was  a  loud  sound  like 
thunder,  a  flash  like  lightning,  and  Cray 
fell  headlong,  splashing  the  gold-green 
leaves  with  his  bright,  hot  young  blood. 
His  mother  saw  him  go  with  a  clutching 
of  her  mother  heart.  And  Mother  Carey 
saw  him  go,  and  said:  "It  had  to  be." 
For  this  is  the  fulfilling  of  the  law ;  this  is 
the  upbuilding  of  the  race ;  this  is  the  lop- 
ping of  the  wayward  branch. 

The  big  Ground -beast  below  seized  on 
the   quivering,   warm   young   body,   and 

[161] 


\\ 


Banner  tail 

yelled  aloud:  ''Billy,  Billee,  I  got  him;  a 
great  big  Silvergray  !     Yahoo  !" 

But  the  meaning  of  that  was  unknown 
to  the  little  mother  and  the  rest.  They 
only  knew  that  a  huge,  savage  Brute  had 
killed  their  little  brother,  and  was  filling 
the  woods  with  its  hideous  blood-curdling 
roars. 


^''^A       \ 
■>       ^ 


li^^' 


-^9 


\ 


[162] 


BANNERTAIL   FALLS   L\TO  A 
SNARE 


CHAPTER  XXV 


BANNERTAIL  FALLS  INTO  A 
SNARE 

ANNERTAIL  was  now  in 
fresh  midsummer  coat  of 
sleekest  gray.  His  tail  was 
a  silver  plume,  and  bigger 
than  himself.  His  health 
was  perfect.  And  just  so  surely  as  a  sick 
one  longs  to  be  and  to  stay  at  home,  so 
a  lusty  Squirrel  hankers  to  go  a-roaming. 
Swinging  from  tree  to  tree,  leaping  the 
familiar  jump -ways,  he  left  the  family  one 
early  morning,  drank  deeply  at  the  spring 
brook,  went  on  aground  "hoppity-hop" 
for  a  dozen  hops,  then  stopped  to  look 
around  and  frisk  his  tail.  Then  on,  and 
again  a  look  around.  So  he  left  the  hick- 
[165] 


\ 


Bannertail 

ory  woods,  and  swung  a  mile  away,  till  at 
last  he  was  on  the  far  hillside  where  first 
he  met  the  Redhead. 

High  in  a  tasselled  pine  he  climbed  and 
sat,  and  his  fine  nose  took  in  the  pleasant 
gum  smells  with  the  zest  that  came  from 
their  strangeness  as  much  as  from  their 
sweetness. 

As  he  sat  he  heard  a  rustling,  racketty 
little  noise   in   the   thicket   near.     Flat- 
^_,  tening  to  the  bough  and  tightening  in  his 

i/jl^  '•— ^^^' — "         tail  he  watched.     What   should  appear 
W      1       h)  but  his  old  enemy,  the  Redhead,  dragging, 

\^Vv^'.A     ■~iij^  struggling  with  something  on  the  ground, 

""'^■"fj^  ^ stopping  to  sputter  out  his  energetic,  an- 

'^^^^'^        '  gry    ''Snick,    snick,''    as    the    thing    he 

dragged  caught  in  roots  and  twigs.  Ban- 
nertail lay  very  low  and  watched  intently. 
The  Redsquirrel  fussed  and  worked  with 
his  burden,  now  close  at  hand.  Banner- 
tail  saw  that  it  was  a  flat,  round  thing, 
like  an  acorn-cup,  only  many  times  larger, 
I  166  ] 


The  Story  of  a  Gra^squirrel 

and  reddish,  with  a  big,  thick  stem  on 
the  wrong  side  —  a  stem  that  was  white, 
Hke  new-peeled  wood. 

Bannertail  had  seen  such  growing  in  the 
woods,  once  or  twice ;  little  ones  they  were, 
but  his  nose  and  his  inner  guide  had  said : 
"Let  them  alone."  And  here  was  this 
fiery  little  Redsquirrel  dragging  one  off  as 
though  he  had  a  prize  !  Sometimes  he 
lifted  it  bodily  and  made  good  headway, 
sometimes  it  dragged  and  caught  in  the 
growing  twigs.  At  last  it  got  fixed  be- 
tween two,  and  with  the  energy  and  fury 
that  so  often  go  with  red  hair,  the  Red- 
head jerked,  shoved,  and  heaved,  and  the 
brittle,  red-topped  toadstool  broke  in  two 
or  three  crisp  pieces.  As  he  sputtered 
and  Squirrel-cussed,  there  was  a  warning 
Bluejay  note.  Redhead  ran  up  the  near- 
est tree;  as  it  happened,  the  one  in  which 
was  Bannertail,  and  in  an  instant  the  en- 
emies were  face  to  face.  "Scold  and 
[167] 


Bannertail 

fight"  is  the  Redsquirrel's  first  impulse, 
but  when  Bannertail  rose  up  to  full  height 
and  spread  his  wondrous  tail  the  Red  one 
was  appalled.  He  knew  his  foe  again ;  his 
keen,  discriminating  nose  got  proofs  of 
that.  The  memory  of  defeat  was  with 
him  yet.  He  retreated,  snick-sputtering, 
and  finally  went  wholly  out  of  sight. 

When  all  was  still,  Bannertail  made  his 
way  to  the  broken  mushroom;  rosy  red 
and  beautiful  its  cap,  snowy  white  its 
stem  and  its  crisp,  juicy  flesh. 

But  of  this  he  took  no  count.  The 
smelling  of  it  was  his  great  chemic  test. 
It  had  the  quaint,  earthy  odor  of  the  lit- 
tle ones  he  had  seen  before,  and  yet  a 
pungent,  food -like  smell,  like  butternuts, 
indeed,  with  the  sharp  pepper  tang  of  the 
rind  a  little  strong,  and  a  whiff,  too,  of 
the  many-legged  crawling  things  that  he 
had  learned  to  shun.  Still,  it  was  allur- 
ing as  food.  And  now  was  a  crucial  time, 
[168] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

a  veritable  trail  fork.  Had  Bannertail 
been  fed  and  full,  the  tiny  little  sense  of 
repulsion  would  have  turned  the  scale, 
would  have  reasserted  and  strengthened 
the  first  true  verdict  of  his  guides --"Bad, 
let  it  alone."  But  it  had  an  attractive 
nut -like  aroma  that  was  sweetly  appetiz- 
ing, that  set  his  mouth  a-watering;  and 
this  thing  turned  the  scale  —  he  was  hun- 
gry. 

He  nibbled  and  liked  it,  and  nibbled 
yet  more.  And  though  it  was  a  big, 
broad  mushroom,  he  stopped  not  till  it  all 
was  gone.  Food,  good  food  it  surely  was. 
But  it  was  something  more;  the  weird 
juices  that  are  the  earth-child's  blood  en- 
tered into  him  and  set  the  fountains  of 
his  life  force  playing  with  marvellous 
power.  He  was  elated.  He  was  full  of 
fight.  He  flung  out  a  defiant  "Qua!"  at 
a  Hen-hawk  flying  over.  He  rummaged 
through  the  pines  to  find  that  fighting 
[169] 


Bannertail 

Redsquirrel.  He  leaped  tree  gaps  that  he 
would  not  at  another  time  have  dared. 
Yes,  and  he  fell,  too;  but  the  ample  silver 
plume  behind  was  there  to  land  him  softly 
on  the  earth.  He  made  a  long,  far,  racing 
journey,  saw  hills  and  woods  that  were 
new  to  him.  He  came  to  a  big  farmhouse 
like  the  one  his  youth  had  known,  but 
passed  it  by,  and  galloped  to  another  hill- 
side. From  the  top  of  a  pine  he  vented 
his  wild  spirits  in  a  boisterous  song  —  the 
song  of  spring  and  fine  weather,  and  the 
song  of  autumn  time  and  vigor. 

The  sun  was  low  when,  feeling  his  ela- 
tion gone,  feeling  dumb  and  drowsy,  in- 
deed, he  climbed  the  homestead  tree  and 
glided  into  the  old  Hawk  nest  to  curl  in 
his  usual  place  beside  his  family. 

Silvergray     sniffed     suspiciously;     she 

smelled  his  whiskers,  she  nibble-nibbled 

with  tongue  and  lips  at  the  odd-smelling 

specks  of  whitish  food  on  his  coat,  and  the 

[170] 


The  Stoiy  of  a  Gra^squirrel 

juices  staining  his  face  and  paws.  New 
food;  it  was  strange,  but  pleased  her  not. 
A  little  puzzled,  she  went  to  sleep,  and 
Bannertail's  big  tail  was  coverlet  for  all 
the  family. 


■•-.<A. 


^^^.ss5^;y^v^_,^S 


[171] 


THE  ADDICT 


CHAPTER  XXVI 
THE  ADDICT 

f^HE  sun  came  up,  with  its  joy- 
^^  ous  wakening  of  the  woods. 
All  the  Squirrel  world  was 
bright  and  alert  —  all  but 
one.  Mother  went  forth  to 
the  sun-up  meal,  Brownhead  went  rollick- 
ing forth,  and  Nyek-nyek  went  gliding, 
too.  But  Bannertail  lay  still.  He  had 
no  words  to  state  his  case;  he  did  not 
know  that  he  had  a  case  to  state.  He 
only  knew  that  he  was  dull  and  sad,  and 
did  not  feel  the  early  morning  call  of  joy. 
The  juices  of  his  weird  feast  were  dried  on 
paws  and  head,  and  the  smell  of  them, 
though  faint,  was  nauseating  to  him. 
[175] 


Banner  tail 

He  did  not  move  that  day;  he  had  no 
desire  to  move.  The  sun  was  low  when 
at  length  he  went  forth  and  down.  At 
the  crystal  spring  he  drank  deep  and 
drank  again.  Silvergray  licked  his  fur 
when  he  came  back  with  the  youngsters 
to  the  nest.  He  was  better  now,  and 
next  sun-up  was  himself  again,  the  big, 
boisterous,  rollicking  Squirrel  of  the 
plumy  tail,  the  playmate  of  the  young 
ones,  the  husband  of  his  wife.  And  their 
merry  lives  went  on,  till  one  morning,  on 
the  bank  of  the  creek  that  flowed  from 
the  high  hill-country,  he  found  a  tiny, 
shiny  fragment  of  the  weird  spellbinding 
mushroom.  A  table  scrap,  no  doubt, 
flood -borne  from  a  Redhead  feast.  He 
sniffed,  as  he  sniffed  all  new,  strange 
things.  A  moon  back  it  would  have 
been  doubtful  or  repellent,  but  he  had 
closed  his  ears  to  the  first  warning  of  the 
inner  guide ;  so  the  warning  now  was  very 
[176] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

low.     He  had  yielded  to  the  slight  appe- 
tite for  this  weird  taste,  so  that  appetite 
was  stronger.     He   eagerly  gobbled   the 
shining,    broken    bit,    and,    possessed    of 
keen  desire  for  more,  went  bounding  and 
pausing  and  fluffing,  farther,  farther  off,    ^'"     _^ 
nor  stopped  till  once  more  high  in  the         r-    ^.- 
hill-country,  among    the   pines   and   the       f/i-^r/ 
banks    where    the    toadstools    of    black 
magic  grew. 

Very   keen   was    Bannertail   when   he  ^ 

swung  from  the  overhead  highway  of  the 
pines  to  the  ground,  to  gallop  over  banks 
with  nose  alert.  Nor  had  he  far  to  go.  jjj^'^ 
This  was  toadstool  time,  and  a  scattered  "jT 
band  of  these  embodied  earth-sprites  was 
spotting  a  sunlit  bank  with  their  smooth 
and  blushing  caps. 

Was  there  in  his  little  soul  still  a  warn- 
ing whisper?    Yes.     Just  a  little,  a  final, 
feeble  "Beware,  touch  it  not!"  —  very 
faint  compared  with  the  first-time  warn- 
[177] 


T<.. 


^9 


A\. 


Bannertail 

ing,  and  now  to  be  silenced  by  counter- 
doings,  just  as  a  single  trail  in  the  sand 
is  wholly  blotted  out  by  a  later  trail 
much  used  that  goes  counterwise  across 
it. 

Just  a  little  pause  made  he,  when  the 
sick  smell  of  the  nearest  toadstool  was  felt 
and  measured  by  his  nose.  The  lust  for 
that  strong  foody  taste  was  overdominat- 
ing.  He  seized  and  crunched  and  rev- 
elled in  the  flowing  juices  and  the  rank 
nut  taste,  the  pepper  tang,  the  toothsome 
mouthiness,  and  gobbled  with  growing 
unreined  greed,  not  one,  but  two  or  three 
—  he  gorged  on  them ;  and  though  stuffed 
and  full,  still  filled  with  lust  that  is  to 
hunger  what  wounding  is  to  soft  caress. 
He  rushed  from  one  madcap  toadstool  to 
another,  driving  in  his  teeth,  revelling  in 
their  flowing  juices,  like  the  blood  of 
earthy  gnomes,  and  rushed  for  joy  up  one 
tall  tree  after  another.  Then,  sensing  the 
[178] 


/^ 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

Redsquirrels,  pursued  them  in  a  sort  of 
berserker  rage,  eager  for  fight,  desperate 
fight,  any  fight,  fight  without  hate,  that 
would  outlet  his  dangerous,  boiling  power, 
his  overflow  of  energy.     Joy  and  power  ff^^ 

were  possessing  his  small  brain  and  lusty  ^  'i,^^ 

frame.     He  found  another  bank  of  mad-  •'.-^^}-^ 

cap  cups;  he  was  too  gorged  to  eat  them,  ((- ^ 

but  he  tossed  and  chewed  the  juicy  cups 

and  stems.     He  raced  after  a  fearsome  ,^ 

Water-snake    on    a    sunny    bank,    and,  Cl^^T^:^  -^t!."'^' 

scared  by  the  fury  of  his  onslaught,  the     v.^^-^.^''.       '\  "\  > 
Snake  slipped  out  of  sight.     He  galloped  ^ '•'■t^   J^^ 

up  a  mighty  pine-tree,  on  whose  highest  '"'    ^'*^^\ 

limbs  were  two  great  Flickers,  clacking. 
He  chased  them  recklessly,  then,  clinging 
to  a  bark  flake  that  proved  loose,  he  was 
launched  into  the  air,  a  hundred  feet  to 
fall.  But  his  glorious  tail  was  there  to 
serve,  and  it  softly  let  him  down  to  earth. 
It  was  well  for  him  that  he  met  no  cat 
or  dog  that  day,  for  the  little  earth-born 
f  179  1 


Bannertail 

demon  in  his  soul  had  cast  out  fear  as 
well  as  wisdom. 

And  Mother  Carey  must  have  wept  as 
she  saw  this  very  dear  one  take  into  his 
body  and  his  brain  a  madness  that  would 
surely  end  his  life.  She  loved  him,  but 
far  more  she  loved  his  race.  And  just  a 
little  longer  she  would  wait,  and  give  him 
yet  one  chance.  And  if  he  willed  not  to 
be  strong,  then  must  he  pay  the  price. 

Not  happy  was  his  homecoming  that 
night.  Silvergray  sniffed  at  his  whiskers. 
She  liked  not  his  breath.  There  was  no 
kindness  in  her  voice,  her  only  sound  a 
harsh,  low*' Grrr^.'" 

And  the  family  life  went  on. 


[180] 


THE  DREGS  OF   THE  CUP 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

THE  DREGS  OF  THE  CUP 

iUT  next  morning  !  Why 
should  it  be  told?  It  was 
asbefore,but  far  worse.  So 
high  as  the  peak  is  above 
the  plain,  so  far  is  the  plain 
below  the  peak.  A  crushed  and  broken 
Bannertail  it  was  that  lay  enfeebled  in 
the  nest  next  day  when  the  family  went 
forth  to  feed  and  frolic. 

Not  that  day  did  he  go  out,  or  wish  to 
go.  Sick  unto  death  was  he;  so  sick  he 
did  not  care.  The  rest  let  him  alone. 
They  did  not  understand,  and  there  was 
something  about  him  which  made  them 
keep  away.  Next  day  he  crawled  forth 
slowly  and  drank  at  the  spring.  That 
[183] 


Bannertail 

day  he  lay  on  the  sunning  dray  and  ate 
but  little.  More  than  one  sun  arose  and 
set  before  he  was  again  the  strong,  hale, 
hearty  Bannertail,  the  father  of  his  fami- 
ly, the  companion  and  protector  of  his 
wife. 


[184] 


THE  WAY  OF  DESTRUCTION 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


THE  WAY  OF  DESTRUCTION 


■^^IHE  little  mother  did  not  un- 
derstand; she  only  had  a 
growing  sense  of  distrust,  of 
repulsion,  and  an  innate  ha- 
tred of  that  strange  com- 
plexity of  smells.  The  children  did  not 
understand,  but  something  there  was 
about  their  father  these  times  that  made 
them  much  afraid. 

They  knew  only  the  sorrow  of  it.  They 
had  no  knowledge  of  how  it  came  or  how 
to  prevent  its  coming.  But  big  and  every- 
where is  the  All-Mother,  Mother  Carey, 
the  wise  one  who  seeks  to  have  her  strong 
ones  build  the  race.  Twice  had  she 
f  187  1 


Bannertail 

warned  him.     Now  he  should  have  one 
more  chance. 

The  Thunder-moon,  July,  was  domi- 
nating Jersey  woods,  when  the  lusty  life 
force  of  the  father  Graycoat  inevitably 
sent  him  roving  to  the  woods  of  the  mad- 
caps. Plenty  they  were  now,  and  many 
had  been  stored  by  the  Redsquirrels  for 
winter  use,  for  this  is  the  riddle  of  their 
being,  that  the  Redsquirrels  long  ago 
have  learned.  On  the  bank,  when  they 
are  rooted  in  the  earth,  their  juices  from 
the  underworld  are  full  of  diabolic  sub- 
tlety, are  tempting  in  the  mouth  as  they 
are  deadly  in  the  blood  and  sure  destruc- 
tion at  the  last.  They  must  be  up- 
rooted, carried  far  from  the  ground  and 
the  underground,  and  high  hung  in  the 
blessed  purifying  pine  tops,  where  Father 
Sun  can  burn  away  their  evil.  There, 
after  long  months  of  sun  and  wind  and 
rain  purgation,  their  earth -bom  bodies 
[  188  ] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

are  redeemed,  are  wholesome  Squirrel 
food.  This  was  the  lesson  Mother  Carey 
had  taught  the  Redheads,  for  their  coun- 
try is  the  country  of  the  fool-trap  toad- 
stools. But  the  Graycoats  know  it  not. 
And  Bannertail  came  again. 


189 


MOTHER  CAREY'S  LASH 


CHAPTER  XXIX 
MOTHER  CAREY  S  LASH 

^^;£HE  wise  men  tell  us  that  it  is 
the  same  as  the  venom  of 
Snakes.  They  tell  us  that 
it  comes  when  the  fool -trap 
toadstool  is  grown  stale,  and 
by  these  ye  may  know  its  hidden  presence : 
When  the  cap  is  old  and  upturned  at  the 
edge,  when  hell-bom  maggots  crawl  and 
burrow  and  revel  in  the  stem,  when  drops 
of  gummy,  poisonous  yellow  blood  ooze 
forth,  when  both  its  smells— the  warning 
smell  of  the  crawling  hundred-legger  and 
the  alluring  smell  of  strong  green  butter- 
nuts— are  multiplied  to  fourfold  power. 

Their  day  was  nearly  over.     They  were 
now  like  old  worn  hags,  whose  beauty  is 
[193] 


%- 


Bannertail 

gone,  and  with  it  their  power  to  please  — 
hags  who  have  become  embittered  and 
seek  only  to  destroy.  So  the  fool-trap 
toadstools  waited,  silently  as  hunters' 
deadfalls  wait,  until  the  moment  comes 
to  strike. 

It  was  the  same  sweet  piny  woods,  the 
same  bright  sparkling  stream,  and  the 
Song-hawk  wheeled  and  sang  the  same 
loud  song,  as  Bannertail  came  once  again 
to  seek  his  earth-born  food,  to  gratify  his 
growing  lust. 

And  Mother  Carey  led  him  on. 

Plentifully  strewn  were  the  unholy 
madcaps,  broad  bent  and  wrinkled  now, 
their  weird  aroma  stronger  and  to  a  mor- 
bid taste  more  alluring.  Even  yet  a  tiny 
warning  came  as  he  sniffed  their  rancid, 
noxious  aura.  The  nut  allurement,  too, 
was  strong,  and  Bannertail  rejoiced. 

The    feast    was    like    the    other,    but 
shorter,  more  restrained.     There  were  lit- 
[194] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

tie  loathsome  whiffs  and  acrid  hints  that 
robbed  it  of  its  zest.  Long  before  half  a 
meal,  the  little  warden  that  dwells  some- 
where betwixt  mouth  and  maw  began  to 
send  offensive  messages  to  his  brain,  and 
even  with  a  bite  between  his  teeth  there 
set  in  strong  a  fearful  devastating  revul- 
sion, a  climax  of  disgust,  a  maw-revolt, 
an  absolute  loathing. 

His  mouth  was  dripping  with  its  nat- 
ural juice,  something  gripped  his  throat, 
the  last  morsel  was  there  and  seemed  to 
stick.  He  tight  closed  his  eyes,  violently 
shook  his  head.  The  choking  lump  was 
shaken  out.  Pains  shot  through  his 
body.  Limbs  and  lungs  were  cramped. 
He  lay  flat  on  the  bank  with  head  down- 
hill. He  jerked  his  head  from  side  to 
side  with  violent  insistence.  His  stomach 
yielded  most  of  the  fateful  mass.  But  the 
poison  had  entered  into  his  body,  already 
was  coursing  in  his  veins. 
[  195  1 


Bannertail 

Writhing  with  agony,  overwhelmed 
with  loathing,  he  lay  almost  as  dead,  and 
the  smallest  enemy  he  ever  had  might 
now  and  easily  have  wreaked  the  limit  of 
revenge.  It  was  accident  so  far  as  he 
was  concerned  that  made  him  crawl  into  a 
dense  thicket  and  like  dead  to  lie  all  that 
day  and  the  night  and  the  next  day. 
And  dead  he  would  have  been  but  for  the 
unusual  vigor  of  his  superb  body.  Good 
Mother  Carey  kept  his  enemies  away. 

Back  at  the  home  nest  the  mate  and 
family  missed  him,  not  much  or  point- 
edly, as  would  folk  of  a  larger  brain  and 
life,  but  they  missed  him;  and  from  the 
tall,  smooth  shaft  that  afternoon  the  lit- 
tle mother  sent  a  long  "qua'*  call.  But 
there  was  no  answering  "qua.""  She  had 
no  means  of  knowing ;  she  had  no  way  of 
giving  help  had  she  known. 

The  sun  was  low  on  Jersey  hills  that 
second  day  when  poor  broken  Bannertail, 
[196] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

near-dead  Bannertail,  came  to  himself, 
his  much-enfeebled  self.  His  head  was 
throbbing,  his  body  was  cramped  with 
pain,  his  mouth  was  dry  and  burning. 
Down-hill  he  crawled  and  groped  slowly 
to  the  running  stream  and  drank.  It  re- 
vived him  a  little,  enough  so  he  could 
crawl  up  the  bank  and  seek  a  dry  place 
under  a  log  to  lie  in  peace  —  sad,  miser- 
able, moaning  peace. 

Three  days  he  suffered  there,  but  the 
fever  had  turned  on  that  first  night ;  from 
the  moment  of  that  cooling  drink  he  was 
on  the  mend.  For  food  he  had  no  wish, 
but  daily  and  deeply  he  drank  at  the 
stream. 

On  that  third  day  he  was  well  enough 
to  scramble  up  the  hill;  he  passed  a  scat- 
tering group  of  the  earthy  madcaps.  Oh, 
how  he  loathed  them ;  their  very  smell  set 
his  mouth  a-dripping,  refusing  its  own 
proper  juice. 

[197] 


Bannertail 

Good  things  there  were  to  eat  on  the 
ground,  but  he  had  little  appetite,  though 
for  three  days  he  had  not  eaten.  He 
passed  by  fat  white  grubs  and  even  nuts, 
but  when  he  found  some  late  wild  straw- 
berries he  munched  them  eagerly.  Their 
acid  sweetness,  their  fragrant  saneness, 
were  what  his  poor  sick  body  craved.  He 
rested,  then  climbed  a  leaning  tree.  He 
had  not  strength  for  a  real  climb.  In  an 
old  abandoned  Flicker  hole  he  curled  him- 
self in  safety,  and  strong,  gentle  Mother 
Nature,  Mother  Carey,  loving  ever  the 
brave  ones  that  never  give  up,  now  spread 
her  kindly  influence,  protecting,  round 
about  him  and  gave  him  blessed,  blessed 
sleep. 


[  198 


HIS  AWAKENING 


CHAPTER  XXX 
HIS  AWAKENING 

[T  was  late  on  that  fourth 
day  when  Bannertail  awoke. 
He  was  a  little  better  now. 
He  slowly  went  down  that 
tree,  tail  first;  very  sick,  in- 
deed, is  a  Squirrel  when  he  goes  down  a 
tree  tail  first.  Sweet,  cooling  water  was 
his  need,  and  again  a  fragrant  meal  of  the 
tonic  strawberries;  then  back  to  the  tree. 
Next  day  he  was  up  with  the  morning 
Robins,  and  now  was  possessed  of  the  im- 
pulse to  go  home.  Vague  pictures  of  his 
mate  and  little  ones,  and  the  merry  home 
tree,  came  on  his  ever-clearer  brain.  He 
set  out  with  a  few  short  hops,  as  he  used 
to  go,  and,  first  sign  of  sanity,  he  stopped 
[201] 


Bannertail 

to  fluff  his  tail.  He  noticed  that  it  was 
soiled  with  gum.  Nothing  can  dethrone 
that  needful  basic  instinct  to  keep  in 
order  and  perfect  the  tail.  He  set  to 
work  and  combed  and  licked  each  long 
and  silvered  hair;  he  fluffed  it  out  and 
tried  its  billowy  beauty,  and  having  made 
sure  of  its  perfect  trim  he  kept  on,  cleaned 
his  coat,  combed  it,  went  to  the  brook- 
side  and  washed  his  face  and  paws  clean 
of  every  trace  of  that  unspeakable  stuff, 
and  in  the  very  cleansing  gave  himself 
new  strength.  Sleek  and  once  more 
somewhat  like  himself  he  was,  when  on 
he  went,  bounding  homeward  with  not 
short  bounds,  but  using  every  little  look- 
out on  the  way  to  peer  around  and  fluff 
and  jerk  his  tail. 

Back  at  the  home  tree  at  last,  nearly 
seven  suns  had  come  and  gone  since  the 
family  had  seen  him. 

The  first  impulse  of  the  little  mother 
[202] 


vr?: 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

was  hostility.  A  stranger  is  always  a 
hostile  in  the  woods.  But  he  flicked  the 
white  flag  on  his  tail  tip,  and  slowly 
climbed  the  tree.  The  youngsters  in 
alarm  had  hidden  in  the  nest  at  mother's 
"Chik,  chik.'"  She  came  cautiously  for- 
ward. His  looks  were  familiar  yet 
strange.     Here  now  was  the  time  to  use  ^-- 

caution.     He    swung    up    nearly   to    the  '^-^. 

door.     She    stood    almost    at    bay,    ut- 
tered a  little  warning  "  Ggrrrfffhh."     He  v' 
crawled  up  closer.     She  spread  her  legs,                       /^ 
clutched  firmly  on  the  bark  above  him.                     /  ^'. 
He    wigwagged    his    silver    tail-tip    and,                    C  ^, 
slowly     drawing    nearer,     reached     out.                4.^  ^^^^S 
Their  whiskers  met;  she  sniffed,   smell-                ^^     i 
tested  him.     No  question  now.     A  little              ^^      ' 
changed,   a  little  strange,   but  this  was            ^          ' 
surely  her  mate.     She  wheeled  and  went             ^  ^  \ 
into  the  nest.    He  came  more  slowly  after, 
put  in  his  head,  gave  a  low,  soft  "£'r."              i 
There  was  no  reply  and  no  hostile  move.              ^\    ^ 
[  203  ] 


Banner  tail 

He  crawled  right  in,  his  silver  plume  was 
laid  about  them  all,  and  the  reunited  fam- 
ily slept  till  the  hour  arrived  for  evening 
meal. 


[  204] 


THE   UNWRITTEN  LAW 


CHAPTER  XXXI 
THE  UNWRITTEN  LAW 


^-^^HIS  is  the  law  of  the  All- 
^^^^'4  Mother,  the  more  immova- 


^  ble  because  unwritten;  this 
is  the  law  of  surfeit. 

Many  foods  there  are 
which  are  wholesome,  except  that  they 
have  in  them  a  measure  of  poison. 

For  these  the  All-Mother  has  endowed 
the  wild  things'  bodies  with  a  subtle  an- 
tidote, which  continues  self -replenishing 
so  long  as  the  containing  flask  is  never 
wholly  emptied.  But  if  it  so  chance  that 
in  some  time  of  fearful  stress  the  flask  is 
emptied,  turned  upside  down,  drained 
dry,  it  never  more  will  fill.  The  small 
[  207] 


Bannertail 

alembic  that  distils  it  breaks,  as  a  boiler 
bursts  if  it  be  fired  while  dry.  Thence- 
forth the  toxin  that  it  overcame  has  viru- 
lence and  power;  that  food,  once  whole- 
some, is  a  poison  now. 

A  "surfeit"  men  call  this  breaking  of 
the  flask;  all  too  well  is  it  known.  By 
this,  unnumbered  healthful  foods — straw- 


"6 1  r ''*v_  /  V-J      berries,    ice-cream,   jam,    delicate   meat, 


:>/'• 


eggs,  yes,  even  simple  breads  can  by  the 
'    devastating  drain  of  one  rash  surfeit  be 
/^^^^'       turned  into  very  foods  of  death.     The 
""•^  poison  always  was  there,  but  the  secret, 

neutralizing  chemical  is  gone,  the  elixir  is 
destroyed,  and  by  the  working  of  the  law 
its  deadly  power  is  loosed.  As  poor  sec- 
ond now  to  this  lost  and  subtle  protec- 
tion, the  All-Mother  endows  the  body 
with  another,  one  of  a  lower  kind.  She 
makes  that  food  so  repellent  to  the  un- 
wise, punished  creature  that  he  never 
more  desires  it.  She  fills  him  with  a 
[  208] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

fierce  repulsion,  the  bodily  rejection  that 
men  call  "nausea." 

This  is  the  law  of  surfeit.  Bannertail 
had  fallen  foul  of  it,  and  Mother  Carey, 
loving  him  as  she  ever  loves  her  strong 
ones,  had  meted  out  the  fullest  measure 
of  punishment  that  he,  with  all  his 
strength,  could  bear  and  yet  come  through 
alive. 

The  Red  Moon  of  harvest  was  at  hand. 
The  Gray  coat  family  was  grown,  and 
happy  in  the  fulness  of  their  lives,  and 
Bannertail  was  hale  and  filled  with  the 
joy  of  being  alive,  leading  his  family  be- 
yond old  bounds,  teaching  them  the  ways 
of  the  farther  woods,  showing  them  new 
foods  that  the  season  brings.  He,  wise 
leader  now,  who  once  had  been  so  un- 
wise. Then  Mother  Carey  put  him  to 
the  proof.  She  led,  he  led  them  farther 
than  they  had  ever  gone  before,  to  the  re- 
motest edge  of  the  hickory  woods.  On 
f  209  1 


Bannertail 

a  bank  half  sunlit  as  they  scampered 
over  the  leaves  and  down  the  logs,  he 
found  a  blushing,  shining  gnome-cap,  an 
earth -bom  madcap.  Yes,  the  very  same, 
for  in  this  woods  they  came,  though  they 
were  rare.  One  whiff,  one  identifying 
sniff  of  that  Satanic  exhalation,  and  Ban- 
nertail felt  a  horrid  clutching  at  his  throat, 
his  lips  were  quickly  dripping,  his  belly 
heaved,  he  gave  a  sort  of  spewing,  gasp- 
ing sound,  and  shrank  back  from  that 
shining  cap  with  eyes  that  bulged  in  hate, 
as  though  he  saw  a  Snake.  There  is  no 
way  of  fully  telling  his  bodily  revulsion. 
The  thing  that  once  was  so  alluring,  was 
so  loathsome  that  he  could  not  stand  its 
fetid  odor  on  the  wind.  And  the  young 
ones  were  caught  by  the  unspoken  horror 
of  the  moment,  they  took  it  in;  they  got 
the  hate  sense.  They  tied  up  that  horror 
in  their  memories  with  that  rank  and 
sickly  smell.  They  turned  away,  Ban- 
[210] 


The  Story  of  a  Gra^squirrel 

nertail  to  drink  in  the  running  brook,  to 
partly  forget  in  a  little  while,  yet  never 
quite  to  forget.  He  was  saved,  the  great 
All-Mother  had  saved  him,  which  was  a 
good  thing,  but  not  in  itself  a  great  thing. 
This  was  the  great  thing,  that  in  that 
moment  happened  —  the  loathing  of  the 
earth-bom  fiend  was  implanted  in  his 
race,  and  through  them  would  go  on  to 
bless  his  generations  yet  to  be. 


211  ] 


SQUIRREL  GAMES 


CHAPTER  XXXII 
SQUIRREL   GAMES 

'AMES  are  used  among  wild 
animals  for  the  training  of 
the  young.  King  of  the 
castle,  tag,  hide-and-seek, 
follow-my-leader,  catch-as- 
catch-can,  wrestling,  coasting,  high-dive, 
and,  in  rare  cases,  even  ball  games  are 
enjoyed.  Most  of  them  were  in  some 
sort  played  by  the  young  Squirrels.  But 
these  are  world-wide,  they  had  one  or 
two  that  were  peculiarly  their  own,  and 
of  these  the  most  exciting  was  the  danger- 
ous game  of  "teasing  the  Hawk." 

Three  kinds  of  big  Hawks  there  are  in 
the  Squirrel  woods  in  summertime:  the 
[215] 


Bannertail 


\ 


Hen-hawk  that  commonly  sails  high  in 
the  air,  screaming  or  whistling,  and  that 
at  other  times  swoops  low  and  silent 
through  the  woods,  and  always  is  known 
by  his  ample  wings  and  bright  red  tail; 
the  gray  Chicken-hawk  that  rarely  soars, 
but  that  skims  among  the  trees  or  even 
runs  on  the  ground,  whose  feathers  are 
gray-brown,  and  whose  voice  is  a  fierce 
crek,  crek,  creek;  and  the  Song-hawk  or 
Singer,  who  is  the  size  of  the  Chicken- 
hawk,  but  a  harmless  hunter  of  mice  and 
frogs,  and  known  at  all  seasons  by  the 
stirring  song  that  he  pours  out  as  he 
wheels  like  a  Skylark  high  in  the  blue. 

The  inner  guide  had  warned  the  bois- 
terous Bannertail  to  beware  of  all  of  them. 
Experience  taught  him  that  they  will  at- 
tack, and  yet  are  easily  baffled,  if  one 
does  but  slip  into  a  hole  or  thicket,  or 
even  around  the  bole  of  a  tree. 

Many  times  that  summer  did  Bannertail 
[216] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

avoid  the  charge  of  Redtail  or  Chicken- 
hawk  by  the  simple  expedient  of  going 
through  a  fork  or  a  maze  of  branches. 
There  was  no  great  danger  in  it,  as  long 
as  he  kept  his  head;  and  it  did  not  dis- 
turb him,  or  cause  his  heart  a  single  extra 
beat.  It  became  a  regular  incident  in 
his  tree-top  life,  just  as  a  stock  man  is 
accustomed  to  the  daily  danger  of  a  sav- 
age Bull,  but  easily  eludes  any  onset  by 
slipping  through  a  fence.  It  does  not 
cause  him  a  tremor,  he  is  used  to  it;  and 
men  there  are  who  make  a  sport  of  it, 
who  love  to  tease  the  Bull,  who  enjoy  his 
helpless  rage  as  he  vainly  tries  to  follow. 
His  mighty  strength  is  offset  by  their 
cunning  and  agility.  It  is  a  pretty  match, 
a  very  ancient  game,  and  never  quite 
loses  zest,  because  the  Bull  does  some- 
times win;  and  then  there  is  one  less 
Bull-teaser  on  the  stock-range. 

This   was   the    game   that   Bannertail 
[217] 


Bannertail 


/M 


\ 


) 


>^ 


evolved.  Sure  of  himself,  delighting  in 
his  own  wonderful  agility,  he  would  often 
go  out  to  meet  the  foe,  if  he  saw  the  Hen- 
hawk  or  the  Chicken-hawk  approaching. 
He  would  flash  his  silver  tail,  and  shrill 
''Grrrff,  grrrff''  by  way  of  challenge. 

The  Hen-hawk  always  saw.  ''Keen- 
eyed  as  a  hawk"  is  not  without  a  reason. 
And,  sailing  faster  than  a  driving  leaf,  he 
would  swish  through  the  hickory  woods 
to  swoop  at  the  challenging  Squirrel. 
But  just  as  quick  was  Bannertail,  and 
round  the  rough  trunk  he  would  whisk, 
the  Hawk,  rebounding  in  the  air  to  save 
himself  from  dashing  out  his  brains  or 
being  impaled,  would  now  be  greeted  on 
the  other  side  by  the  head  and  flashing 
tail  of  the  Squirrel,  and  another  with  loud, 
defiant  "Ggrrrffhh,  grggrrrffhh:' 

Down  again  would  swoop  the  air  ban- 
dit, quicker  than  a  flash,  huge  black  claws 
advanced,  and  Bannertail  would  wait  till 
[218] 


The  Story  of  a  Gra^squirrel 

the  very  final  instant,  rejoicing  in  his 
every  nerve  at  tension,  and  just  as  those 
deadly  grappling-irons  of  the  Hawk  were 
almost  at  his  throat,  he  would  duck, 
the  elusive,  baffling  tail  would  flash  in 
the  Hawk's  very  face,  and  the  place  the 
Graycoat  had  occupied  on  the  trunk  was 
empty.  The  grapnels  of  the  Hawk 
clutched  only  bark ;  and  an  instant  later, 
just  above,  the  teasing  head  and  the 
flaunting  tail  of  Bannertail  would  re- 
appear, with  loudly  voiced  defiance. 

The  Hawk,  like  the  Bull,  is  not  of 
gentle  humor.  He  is  a  fierce  and  angry 
creature,  out  to  destroy;  his  anger  grows 
to  fury  after  such  defeat,  he  is  driven 
wild  by  the  mockery  of  it,  and  often- 
times he  begets  such  a  recklessness  that 
he  injures  himself  by  accident,  as  he 
charges  against  one  of  the  many  sharp 
snags  that  seem  ever  ready  for  the  Squir- 
rel-kind's defense. 

[219] 


Banner  tail 

Yes,  a  good  old  game  it  is,  with  the 
zest  of  danger  strong.  But  there  is  an- 
other side  to  it  all. 


[  220 


WHEN  BANNERTAIL  WAS  SCARRED 
FOR  LIFE 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

WHEN   BANNERTAIL   WAS 
SCARRED   FOR   LIFE 

|T  makes  indeed  merry  play, 
with  just  enough  of  excite- 
ment when  you  bait  the 
Bull,  and  dodge  back  to  the 
fence  to  laugh  at  his  im- 
potent raging.  But  it  makes  a  very  dif- 
ferent chapter  when  a  second  Bull  comes 
on  the  other  side  of  the  fence.  Then  the 
game  is  over,  the  Bull-baiter  must  find 
some  far  refuge  or  scramble  up  the  near- 
est sheltering  tree,  or  pay  the  price. 

Bannertail  had  an  ancient  feud  with 

the  big  Hen-hawk,  whose  stick  nest  was 

only  a  mile  away,  high  in  a  rugged  beech. 

There  were  a  dozen  farmyards  that  paid 

[  223  1 


;^'\f^^^-:?=-  '^-^^^i^^^;-  Bannertail 

'"■''*!,.-^'^il.f^  unwilling  tribute  to  that  Hawk,  a  hun- 

dred little  meadows  with  their  Mice  and 
Meadowlarks,  and  one  open  stretch  of 
marsh  with  its  Muskrats  and  its  Ducks. 
But  the  hardwood  ridges,  too,  he  counted 
on  for  dues.  The  Squirrels  all  were  his, 
if  only  he  could  catch  them.  Many  a 
game  had  he  and  Bannertail,  a  game 
of  life  and  death. 

They  played  again  that  morning  in 
July.  It  was  the  same  old  swooping  of 
the  whistling  pinions,  and  the  grasping  of 
strong  yellow  feet  with  hard  black  claws, 
grasping  at  nothing,  where  was  a  Gray- 
coat  half  a  heartbeat  back,  the  same 
flaunting  silver  flag,  the  mocking  "Grrrff, 
gyyy^r  the  teasing  and  daring  of  the 
Hawk  to  make  another  swoop.  Then 
did  that  big  Hen-hawk  what  he  should 
have  done  before.  He  filled  the  air  with 
his  war-cry,  the  long  screaming  '*  Yek- 
yek-yeeeek!^^  Coursing  low  and  swift 
[224] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

came  another,  his  mate,  the  lady  bandit, 
even  fiercer  than  himself.  Swift  and  with 
little  noise  she  came.  And  when  savage 
old  Yellow-eyes  swooped  and  Bannertail 
whisked  around  the  tree,  he  whisked 
right  into  the  clutches  of  the  deadlier 
she-one.  He  barely  escaped  by  a  mar- 
vellous side  rush  around  the  trunk.  Here 
again  was  Yellow-eyes,  but  right  in  his 
face  Bannertail  dashed  his  big  silvery 
tail.  The  Hawk  in  his  haste  clutched  at 
its  nothingness,  or  he  would  have  got  the 
Gray  coat.  But  luck  was  with  Banner- 
tail,  and  again  he  dodged  around  the 
trunk.  Alas,  the  she  Hawk  was  there, 
and  struck;  her  mighty  talons  grazed  his 
haunch,  three  rips  they  made  in  his 
glossy,  supple  coat.  In  an  instant  more 
the  Redtail  would  have  trussed  him,  for 
there  was  no  cover,  only  the  big,  out- 
standing trunk,  with  the  Hen-hawks 
above  and  below.  A  moment  more  and 
[  225] 


Bannertail 

Bannertail's  mate,  helpless  in  the  distant 
nest,  would  have  seen  him  borne  away. 
But  as  they  closed,  he  leaped  —  leaped 
with  all  his  strength,  far  from  them  into 
open  air,  and  faster  than  they  could  fly 
in  such  a  place,  down,  down,  his  silver 
plume  in  function  just  behind  him,  down 
a  hundred  feet  to  fall  and  land  in  a 
thicket  of  laurel,  wounded  and  bleeding, 
but  safe.  He  scrambled  into  a  thicker 
maze,  and  gazed  with  new  and  tenser 
feelings  at  the  baffled  Hen -hawks,  circling, 
screaming  high  above  him. 

Soon  the  bandits  gave  up.  Clearly  the 
Gray  coat  had  won,  and  they  flew  to  levy 
their  robber -baron  tribute  on  some  others 
that  they  held  to  be  their  vassals. 

Yes,  Bannertail  had  won,  by  a  narrow 
lead.  He  had  taken  a  mighty  hazard  and 
had  learned  new  wisdom  —  Never  play 
the  game  with  death  till  you  have  to,  for 
if  you  win  one  hundred  times  and  lose 
[  226  ] 

'A 
J  '^ 


A  UA.NUtkUUS  GAME 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 


once   you   have   lost   your   whole   stake.         ^^  ^ 
On  his  haunch    he    carried,  carries    yet,         '7/'^' 
the  three  long  scars,  where  the  fur  is  a 
little   paler  —  the   brand   of  the   robber 
baroness,    the    slash    of  the    claws    that 
nearly  got  him. 

Have  you  noted  that  in  the  high  Alle- 
ghenies,  where  the  Gray  coats  seldom  see 
hunters  of  any  kind,  they  scamper  while 
the  enemy  is  far  away ;  but  they  peer 
from  upper  limbs  and  call  out  little  chal- 
lenges ?  In  Jersey  woods,  where  a  wiser 
race  has  come,  they  never  challenge  a 
near  foe;  they  make  no  bravado  rushes. 
They  signal  if  they  see  an  enemy  near, 
then  hide  away  in  perfect  stillness  till 
that  enemy,  be  it  Hawk  in  air  or  Hound 
on  earth,  is  far  away,  or  in  some  sort 
ceases  to  be  a  menace. 

And  menfolk  hunters,  who  tell  of  their 
feats  around  the  glowing  stove  in  the  win- 
ter-time, say  there  is  a  new  race  of  Gray- 
[227] 


Bannertail 

coats  come.  Any  gunner  could  kill  one 
of  the  old  sort,  but  it  takes  a  great 
hunter  such  as  themselves  to  get  one  of 
the  new.  This  latter-day  Graycoat  has 
gotten  much  wisdom  into  his  little  brain, 
and  one  of  the  things  he  knows:  "It 
never  pays  to  gamble  with  destruction." 
The  new  race,  they  say,  began  in  a 
certain  hickory  wood.  We  know  that 
wood,  and  we  have  seen  a  little  how  the 
wisdom  came,  and  can  easily  reason  why 
it  spread. 


c^-=.  If  '^  y 


[  228] 


THE  FIGHT  WITH  THE  BLACK 
DEMON 


CHAPTER  XXXIV 

THE  FIGHT  WITH  THE  BLACK 
DEMON 

^XT  in  importance  to  the 
Squirrels,  after  the  tower- 
ing trees  with  their  lavish 
bounty,  was  the  brook  that 
carried  down  scraps  of  the 
blue  sky  to  inlay  them  with  green  moss, 
purple  logs,  and  gold-brown  stones,  that 
sang  its  low,  sweet  song  both  day  and 
night,  and  that  furnished  to  the  family 
their  daily  drink. 

"Do  not  drink  at  the  pond"  is  a  Squir- 
rel maxim,  for  in  it  lurks  the  fearful  Snap- 
ping Turtle  and  the  grinning  Pike.  Its 
banks  are  muddy,  too,  and  the  water 
warm.  It  is  better  to  drink  from  some 
low  log,  along  the  brook  itself. 
[231] 


.. ^yf'^^-^^. 


^T- 


Banner  tail 


^^, 


i^ 


And  do  not  drink  in  the  blinding  sun- 
light, which  makes  it  hard  to  see  if  danger 
is  near;  then,  too,  it  is  that  the  Black- 
snake  crawls  out  to  seek  some  basking 

place  in  the  hottest  sun. 
^  Yes,  this  is  Squirrel  wisdom;  the  morn- 
ing drink  is  at  sunrise,  the  evening  at 
sunset,  when  the  cool  shade  is  on  the 
woods  but  darkness  not  begun. 

The  Graycoat  family  held  together  still, 
though  the  Harvest -moon  was  red  in  the 
low  eastern  sky.  Some  Squirrel  families 
break  up  as  soon  as  the  young  are  nearly 
grown.  But  some  there  are  that  are  held 
together  longer,  very  long,  by  unseen 
bonds  of  sympathy  with  which  they  have 
been  gifted  in  a  little  larger  measure  than 
is  common.  Brownhead  was  much  away, 
living  his  own  life.  Still,  he  came  home. 
Nyek-nyek,  gentle,  graceful  Nyek-nyek, 
clung  to  her  mother  and  the  old  nest,  like 
a  very  weanling ;  and  rest  assured  that  in 
[  232  ] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

Squirrel-land,  as  in  others,  love  is  begot- 
ten and  intensified  by  love. 

The  morning  drink  and  the  morning 
meal  were  the  established  daily  routine. 
Then  came  a  time  of  exercise  and  play. 
But  all  Squirrels  that  are  hale  and  wise 
take  a  noonday  nap. 

Each  was  stretched  on  one  or  other  of 
the  sleeping  platforms,  lying  lazily  at 
ease  one  noontime.  The  day  was  very 
hot,  and  the  sun  swung  round  so  it  glared 
on  Nyek-nyek's  sleeping-porch.  Panting 
soon  with  the  heat,  she  decided  to  drink, 
swung  to  the  gangway  of  their  huge  trunk 
and  started  down  the  tree.  The  little 
mother,  ever  alert,  watched  the  young 
one  go.  There  was  in  her  heart  just  a 
shadow  of  doubt,  of  distrust,  much  as  a 
human  mother  might  feel  if  she  saw  her 
toddler  venture  forth  alone  into  the 
night. 

Nyek-nyek     swung     to     the     ground, 

[233] 


Bannertail 

coursed  in  billowy  ripples  of  silver-gray 
along  a  log,  stopped  on  a  stump  to  look 
around  and  religiously  fluff  her  tail,  while 
mother  dreamily  watched  through  half- 
closed  eyes.  Then  out  into  the  brilliant 
sunlight  she  went.  Some  creatures  are 
dazed  and  made  lazy  by  the  hot,  bright 
glare,  some  find  in  it  a  stimulant,  a  multi- 
plier of  their  life  force ;  it  sets  their  senses 
on  a  keener  edge;  it  gifts  them  with  new 
speed,  intensifies  their  every  power. 

The  Gray  coats  are  of  the  first  kind, 
and  of  the  second  was  Coluber,  the  long, 
black,  shiny,  blue-black  Snake  that  was 
lying  like  a  limp  and  myriad-linked  chain 
flung  across  a  big,  low  log  —  a  log  that 
sucked  the  sun  heat  as  it  lay,  just  where 
the  brook  expanded  to  the  pond.  Never 
a  blink  was  there  in  those  gray-green  eyes, 
never  a  quiver  in  that  long,  lithe  tongue. 
One  not  knowing  would  have  said  he  is 
dead;  one  knowing  him  well  would  have 
[  234] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

said  he  is  filling  up  his  storage-batteries 
to  the  full.  Never  a  wriggle  was  there  in 
even  the  nervous  tail  tip,  that  nearly  al- 
ways switches  to  and  fro ;  yet  not  a  move 
of  the  Squirrel  since  she  left  her  sleeping 
porch  was  lost  on  him. 

What  was  it  gave  a  new  pathway  to 
the  young  Graycoat?  Was  it  Mother 
Carey  who  led  her  with  a  purpose  ?  Not 
to  the  familiar  log  she  went,  where  the 
family  had  always  found  an  ideal  footing 
when  they  took  the  morning  drink,  but 
down -stream,  toward  the  pond  and  on  to 
the  little  muddy  shore. 

The  mother  Squirrel  saw  that,  and  her 
feeling  of  doubt  grew  stronger.  She  rose 
up  to  follow,  but  gazed  a  moment  to  see 
a  sudden  horror.  Just  as  the  little  Nyek- 
nyek  stooped  and  sank  her  face  deep  to 
her  eyes  in  the  cooling  flood,  the  Black- 
snake  sprang,  sprang  from  his  coil  as  a 
Blacksnake  springs,  when  the  victim  is 
[  235  1 


Bannertail 

within  the  measured  length.  Sprang  with 
his  rows  of  teeth  agape,  clinched  on  her 
neck,  and  in  a  trice  the  heavy  coils,  tense 
with  energy,  ridged  with  muscle,  flash- 
lapped  around  her  neck  and  loins,  gripped 
in  an  awful  grip,  while  the  lithe,  live  scaly 
tail  wrapped  round  a  branch  to  anchor 
both  killer  and  victim  to  the  place.  One 
shriek  of  ''Qua,'"  another  fainter,  and  a 
final  gasp,  and  no  more  sound  from  Nyek- 
nyek.  But  she  struggled,  a  hopeless, 
helpless  struggle.  The  mother  saw  it  all. 
Fear  of  that  terrible  Snake  was  forgotten. 
Not  one  moment  did  she  pause.  She  did 
not  clamber  down  that  tree.  She  leaped 
to  the  next  and  a  lower  yet,  and  along  a 
log;  five  heart-beats  put  her  on  the  spot; 
and  with  all  her  force  she  drove  her  teeth 
into  the  hard,  scaly  coil  of  the  beast  that 
she  held  in  mortal  fear.  With  a  jerk  the 
monster  quit  his  neck  hold  on  the  young 
one.  She  was  helpless,  bound  in  his  coil, 
[  236] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

and  the  Snake's  dread  jaws  with  the  rows 
of  pointed  teeth  clamped  on  the  mother's 
neck,  and  another  fold  of  that  long,  hell- 
ish length  was  hitched  around  her  throat. 
Scratch  she  could  and  struggle,  but  bite 
she  could  not,  for  the  coil  held  her  as  in 
a  vise.     For  a  moment  only  could  she 
make  a  sound,  the  long,  long,  screaming 
''Qiieeee,''  the  Squirrel  call  for  help;  and 
Bannertail,  lazily  dozing  on  his  sunning 
perch,  sprang  up  and  set  his  ears  acock. 
It  was  not  repeated,  but  the  sound  of 
struggle   was   there,   and   the   keen-eyed 
father  Squirrel  saw  the  flash  of  a  silver  i\ 
tail,  the  signal  of  his  kind.     And  from  ^ 
that  perch  high  in  the  air  he  leaped  in  one  "-^  , 
long,  parachuting  leap;  he  landed  on  the    Jj/      ^. 
ground,  and  in  three  mighty  bounds  he  //t^^j^^^^   '''^      v 

was    at   the   place.     The   horror   of  the       , ^  ^ 

Snake  was  on  him.     It  set  his  coat  a-     ^  ^\^ '  ^^^ 

bristling;  but  it  did  not  hold  him  back.  ^         /^ 

It  only  added  desperation  to  his  onset.  ^      / 

[  237] 


( 


Bannertail 

Clutching  that  devilish  scaly  neck  with 
both  his  arms,  he  drove  in  his  chisel  teeth 
and  ground  them  in,  down  to  the  very- 
bone,  as  Silver  gray  could  not  have  done. 
He  worked  and  tugged  and  stabbed  again, 
and  the  Snake,  sensing  a  new  and  stronger 
foe,  relaxed  on  Silvergray,  snapped  with 
his  hateful  jaws,  seized  Bannertail's 
strong  shoulder  just  where  he  best  could 
stand  it — where  the  skin  is  thick  and 
strong  the  Blacksnake  drove  in  and 
gripped.  And  Bannertail,  as  quick,  quit 
his  first  hold  on  the  coil  that  was  stran- 
gling Nyek-nyek,  and  by  good  luck,  or 
maybe  by  better  wisdom  than  his  own, 
drove,  fighting  fierce,  into  the  demon's 
throat,  the  weak  spot  in  that  scaly  armor. 
Deep  sank  the  Squirrel's  teeth,  and  pangs 
of  mortal  agony  went  thrilling  through 
the  reptile's  length.  But  he  was  strong, 
and  a  desperate  fighter,  too.  The  coils 
unloosed  on  the  senseless  form  of  Nyek- 
[  238] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 
nyek  and  lapped  in  a  trice  on  Bannertail, 
three   times   round,    straining,    crushing, 
while  his  rows  of  cruel  fangs  were  sunk 
in  the  Squirrel's  silvery  side. 

But  in  throwing  all  his  force  against 
Bannertail  he  released  the  little  Gray 
mother.  She  flung  herself  again  on  the 
black  horror,  and  bit  with  all  her  power 
the  head  that  was  gripped  on  the  shoulder 
of  her  mate.  Very  narrow  is  the  demon 
reptile's  head,  and  only  one  place  was 
open,  offered  to  her  grip.  She  bit  with 
all  her  force  across  the  eyes,  her  long, 
sharp  chisels  entered  in.  His  eyes  were 
pierced,  his  brain  was  stung.  With  an 
agonizing  last  convulsion  he  wrenched  on 
Bannertail,  then,  quivering  with  a  palsy 
that  changed  to  a  springing  open  of  the 
coils,  he  dashed  his  head  from  side  to 
side,  lashed  his  tail,  heaved  this  way  and 
that,  coiled  up,  then  straightened  out. 
The  Squirrels  leaped  back,  the  monster 
[  239] 


4:  '/ 


Bannertail 

lashed  in  writhing  convolutions,  felt  the 
cool  water  that  he  could  no  longer  see, 
went  squirming  out  upon  it,  working 
his  frothy  jaws,  lashing,  thrashing  with 
his  tail.  Then  up  from  the  darkest  depths 
came  a  hideous  goggle-eyed  head,  a  mon- 
strous head,  as  big  as  a  Squirrel's  whole 
body,  and  on  it  a  horny  beak,  which, 
opening,  showed  a  huge  red  maw,  and  the 
squirming  Blacksnake  was  seized  by  the 
bigger  brute.  Crushed  and  broken  in 
those  mighty  jaws  was  the  Black  One's 
supple  spine;  torn  open  by  those  great 
claws  was  his  belly,  ended  was  his  life. 
The  Snapper  sank,  taking  the  Blacksnake 
with  him.  It  was  the  finish  of  an  ancient 
feud  between  them,  and  down  in  the  dark 
depths  of  the  pond  the  Water  Demon 
feasted  on  the  body  of  his  foe. 

And  Bannertail,  the  brave  fighter,  with 
the  heroic  little  Mother  and  Nyek-nyek 
now  revived,  drew  quickly  back  to  safety. 
[240] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

A  little  cut  they  were,  but  mostly  breath- 
less, their  very  wind  squeezed  out  by 
those  dread  coils.  The  ripples  on  the 
pool  had  scarcely  died  before  they  were 
all  three  again  in  the  dear  old  nest,  with 
Brownhead  back  anew  from  a  far  journey. 
Without  words,  were  they  to  tell  of  their 
thrills  and  fears,  or  their  joy;  but  this  re- 
action came:  They  cuddled  up  in  the  nest, 
a  little  closer  than  before,  a  little  more  at 
one,  a  little  less  to  feel  the  scatteration 
craze  that  comes  in  most  wild  families 
when  the  young  are  grown;  which  meant 
these  young  will  have  for  a  little  longer 
the  good  offices  of  their  parents,  and  are 
thereby  fitted  a  little  better  for  the  life- 
battle,  a  little  more  likely  to  win. 

Is  it  not  by  such  accumulating  little 
things  that  brain  and  brawn  and  the 
world  success  of  every  dominating  race  of 
creatures  has  been  built? 

[  241 1  *i5t,;fe 


THE  PROPERTY  LAW  AMONG 
ANIMALS 


CHAPTER  XXXV 

THE  PROPERTY  LAW  AMONG 
ANIMALS 


'HAT  was  the  year  of  the 
wonderful  nut  crop.  It  is 
commonly  so;  the  year  of 
famine  is  followed  by  one  of 
plenty.  Red  oaks  and  white 
were  laden,  as  well  as  the  sweet  shag 
hickories.  And  the  Bannertail  family  in 
their  grove  watched  with  a  sort  of  owner 
pride  the  thick  green  hanging  clusters  of 
their  favorite  food. 

Like  small  boys  too  eager  to  await 
the  baking  of  their  cake,  nibbling  at  the 
unsatisfactory  half-done  dough,  they  cut 
and  opened  many  a  growing  nut.  Its 
kernel,  very  small  as  yet,  was  good;  but 
[245] 


Bannertail 

the  rind,  oozing  its  green-brown  juices, 
stained  their  jaws  and  faces,  yes, — their 
arms  and  breasts,  till  it  was  hard  to 
recognize  each  other  in  these  dark-brown 
masks.  For  the  disfigurement  they  cared 
nothing.  Only  when  the  thick  sap,  half 
drying,  gummed  his  silvery  plume,  did 
Bannertail  abandon  other  pursuits  to  lick 
and  clear  and  thoroughly  comb  that  price- 
less tail;  and  what  he  did,  the  others,  by 
force  of  his  energetic  example,  were  soon 
compelled  to  do. 

The  Hunting-moon,  September,  came. 
The  nuts  were  fully  grown  but  very  green. 
g*  **  Who  owns  the  nuts  ?  "  is  an  old  question 

\ 'L-"-     ^^  ^^^  woods.     Usually  they  are  owned 
by  the  one  who  can  possess  them  effec- 
tively, although  there  are  some  restrain- 
ing, unwritten  laws. 
%Ni;    «  )       /  Squirrels  have  three  well-marked  ideas 


ifC 


\ 
\ 

■y 


ll 


J 


of  property.     First,  of  the  nesting-place 
/      which  they  have  possessed,  and  the  nest 
/  [ 246  ] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 


which  they  have  built;  second,  the  food 
which  they  have  found  or  stored;  third, 
the  range  which  is  their  homeland  —  the 
boundaries  of  which  are  not  well-defined 
—but  most  jealously  held  against  those 
of  their  own  kind.  The  Homeland  is 
also  held  against  all  who  eat  their  foods 
so  that  it  is  part  of  the  food-property 
sense.  All  three  were  strong  in  Banner- 
tail;  and  his  growing  pride  in  the  coming 
nut  yield  was  much  like  that  of  a  farmer 
who,  by  the  luck  of  good  weather,  is 
blessed  with  a  bumper  crop  of  com. 

It  seemed  as  though  word  of  the  coming 
feast  had  spread  to  other  and  far-off 
places,  for  many  other  nut-eaters  kept 
drifting  that  way,  turning  up  in  the  hick- 
ory woods  that  the  Graycoats  thought 
their  own. 

The  Bluejay  and  the  Redheaded  Wood- 
pecker came.  They  pecked  long  and  hard 
at  the  soggy  husks  to  get  at  the  soft, 
[  247] 


m 


M^^ 


Banner  tail 

sweet,  milk-white  meat.  Th"  ^  did  little 
damage,  for  their  beaks  were  not  strong 
enough  to  twist  off  the  nuts  and  carry 
them  away,  but  the  Graycoats  felt  that 
these  were  poachers  and  drove  them  off. 
Of  course  it  was  easy  for  the  birds  to  keep 
out  of  reach,  but  they  hovered  about, 
stealing — yes,  that  was  what  the  Squir- 
rels thought  about  it  —  stealing  the  hick- 
ory harvest  when  they  could. 

Then  came  other  poachers,  the  Red- 
squirrel  with  his  mate,  cheeky,  brazen- 
fronted,  aggressive  as  usual;  they  would 
come  quietly,  when  the  Graycoats  were 
asleep  or  elsewhere,  and  proceed  to  cut 
the  nut  bunches.  Many  times  the  only 
notice  of  their  presence  was  the  sudden 
"thump,  thump"  of  the  nut  bunch  strik- 
ing the  ground  after  the  Red  One  had  cut 
it  loose.  His  intention  had  been  to  go 
down  quietly  after  it,  split  the  husks,  and 
carry  off  the  luscious,  half -ripe  nuts  to 
[248] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

his  s  "ie.     But  the  racket  called  the 

Grayer  attention.      Bannertail    and 

Brownheaa  *vould  rush  forth  like  settlers 
to  fight  off  an  Indian  raid,  or  like  house- 
holders to  save  their  stuff  from  burglars. 

There  was  little  actual  fighting  to  do 
with  the  Red  Ones,  for  they  had  learned 
to  fear  and  fly  from  the  Gray  coats,  but 
they  did  not  fly  far.  Their  safest  refuge 
was  a  hole  underground,  where  Gray  coats 
could  not  or  would  not  follow,  and  after 
waiting  for  quiet  the  Red  Robber  would 
come  out  again,  and  sometimes,  at  least, 
get  away  with  a  load  of  the  prized  nuts. 

New  enemies  approached  one  day, 
nothing  less  than  other  Graycoats,  some 
Squirrels  of  their  own  kind,  travelling 
from  some  other  land,  travelling,  maybe, 
like  Joseph  and  his  brethren,  away  from 
a  place  of  famine,  till  now  they  found 
an  Egypt,  a  land  of  plenty. 

Against  them  Bannertail  went  vigor- 
f  249  1 


Bannertail 

ously  to  war.  It  is  well  known  that  the 
lawful  owner  fights  more  valiantly,  with 
more  heart,  with  indomitable  courage 
indeed,  while  the  invader  is  in  doubt. 
He  lacks  the  backing  of  a  righteous  cause. 
He  half  expects  to  be  put  to  flight,  even 
as  he  goes  forth  to  battle.  And  the  Ban- 
nertails  were  able  to  make  good  their 
claims  to  the  hickory  grove.  Yet  it  kept 
them  ever  alert,  ever  watchful,  ever  ready 
to  fight. 

Partly  because  the  nuts  were  already 
good  food,  and  partly  because  it  kept 
others  from  stealing  them,  the  Gray  coats 
cut  some  of  the  crop  in  September. 


[250] 


GATHERING  THE  GREAT  NUT 
HARVEST 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

GATHERING  THE  GREAT  NUT 
HARVEST 

fN  the  Leaf  -  falling  -  moon, 
October,  the  husks  began  to 
dry  and  split,  and  the  nuts 
to  fall  of  themselves.  Then 
was  seen  a  wild,  exciting 
time,  the  stirring  of  habits  and  impulses 
laid  in  the  foundations  of  the  race. 

No  longer  wabbly  or  vague,  as  in  that 
first  autumn,  but  fully  aroused  and  domi- 
nating was  the  instinct  to  gather  and  bury 
every  precious,  separate  nut.  Banner- 
tail  had  had  to  learn  slowly  and  partly 
by  seeing  the  Redsquirrels  making  off 
with  the  prizes.  But  he  had  learned, 
and  his  brood  had  the  immediate  stimulus 
[  253  1 


^ 


Bannertail 


of  seeing  him  and  their  mother  at  work; 
and  because  he  was  of  unusual  force,  it 
drove  him  hard,  with  an  urge  that  acted 
like  a  craze.  He  worked  like  mad,  seiz- 
ing, stripping,  smelling,  appraising,  mark- 
ing, weighing  every  nut  he  found. 

What,  weighing  it?  Yes,  every  nut 
was  weighed  by  the  wise  harvester. 
How?  By  delicate  muscular  sense.  It 
was  held  for  a  moment  between  the  paws, 
and  if  it  seemed  far  under  weight  it  was 
cast  aside  as  worm-eaten,  empty,  worth- 
less; if  big,  but  merely  light  in  weight, 
that  meant  probably  a  fat  worm  was  with- 
in. Then  that  nut  was  split  open  and  the 
worm  devoured.  A  wormy  nut  was  never 
stored.  If  the  nut  was  heavy,  round,  and 
perfect,  the  fine  balance  in  the  paws  and 
the  subtle  sense  of  smell  asserted  the  fact, 
and  then  it  was  owner-marked.  How? 
By  turning  it  round  three  times  in  the 
mouth,  in  touch  with  the  tongue.  This 
[254] 


The  Story  of  a  Gra^squirrel 

left  the  personal  touch  of  that  Squirrel  on 
it,  and  would  protect  it  in  a  measure  from 
being  carried  off  by  other  Gray  squirrels, 
especially  when  food  abounded.  Then, 
rushing  off  several  hops  from  the  place 
where  the  last  nut  was  buried,  Bannertail 
would  dig  deep  in  the  ground,  his  full 
arm's  length,  ram  down  the  nut  held  in 
his  teeth;  then,  pushing  back  the  earth 
with  snout  and  paws,  would  tamp  that 
down,  replacing  the  twigs  and  dry  leaves 
so  the  nut  was  safely  hidden.  Then  to 
the  next,  varying  the  exercise  by  dashing, 
not  after  the  visiting  Graysquirrels  — 
they  kept  their  distance  —  but  after  some  ...  (  *.  _  . 
thieving  Chipmunk  or  those  pestiferous  '  ^.'^.5-!^.!..'^..^ 
Redsquirrels  who  sought  sometimes  to 
unearth  his  buried  treasure.  Or,  he  would 
dart  noisily  up  the  tree,  to  chase  the 
Bluejays  who  were  trying  to  rob  them  of 
the  nuts  not  yet  fallen ;  then  back  to  earth 
again,  where  was  his  family  —  Silvergray, 
[  255] 


Bannertail 

Brownhead,  and  Nyek-nyek  —  inspired 
by  his  example,  all  doing  as  he  did,  work- 
ing like  beavers,  seizing,  husking,  weigh- 
ing, marking,  digging,  dig-dig-digging 
and  burying  nuts  all  day  long.  Hundreds 
of  these  little  graves  they  dug,  till  the 
ground  under  every  parent  tree  was  a  liv- 
ing, crowded  burying -ground  of  the  tree's 
own  children.  Morning,  noon,  and  eve- 
ning they  worked,  as  long  as  there  was 
light  enough  to  see. 

A  cool  night  and  another  drying  day 
brought  down  another  hickory  shower. 
And  the  Graycoats  worked  without  ceas- 
ing. They  were  tired  out  that  night. 
They  had  driven  off  a  score  of  robbers, 
they  had  buried  at  least  a  thousand  nuts, 
each  in  a  separate  hole.  The  next  day 
was  an  even  more  strenuous  time.  For 
seven  full  days  they  worked,  and  then  the 
precious  nut  harvest  was  over.  Acorns  — 
red  and  white  and  yellow  —  might  come 
[256] 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

later,  and  some  be  buried  and  some  not. 
The  Bluejays,  Woodpeckers,  and  the  Red- 
squirrels  would  get  a  handsome  share,  and 
pile  them  up  in  storehouses,  a  day's  gath- 
ering in  one  place,  for  such  is  their  wa37-, 
but  the  hickory-nuts  were  the  precious 
things  that  counted  for  the  Bannertail 
brood.  Ten  thousand  at  least  had  the 
Graycoats  buried,  each  an  arm's  length 
down,  and  deftly  hidden,  with  the  trash 
of  the  forest  floor  replaced. 

This  undoubtedly  was  their  only  im- 
pulse, to  bury  the  rich  nuts  for  future  use 
as  food.  But  Nature's  plan  was  larger. 
There  were  other  foods  in  the  woods  at 
this  season.  The  Squirrels  would  not 
need  the  precious  hickories  for  weeks  or 
months;  all  sign  that  might  mark  the 
burial-place  would  be  gone.  When  really 
driven  by  need  the  Squirrels  would  come 
and  dig  up  these  caches.  Memory  of  the 
locality  first,  then  their  exquisite  noses 
[257] 


Bannertail 


would  be  their  guides.  They  would  find 
most  of  the  nuts  again.  But  not  all. 
Some  would  escape  the  diggers,  and  what 
would  happen  to  these?  They  would 
grow.  Yes,  that  was  Nature's  plan.  The 
acorns  falling  and  lying  on  the  ground  can 
burst  their  thin  coats,  send  down  a  root 
and  up  a  shoot  at  once,  but  the  hickory 
must  be  buried  or  it  will  dry  up  before  it 
grows.  This  is  the  hickory's  age-old 
compact  with  the  Gray  squirrel :  You 
bury  my  nuts  for  me,  plant  my  children, 
and  you  may  have  ninety-five  per  cent  of 
the  proceeds  for  your  trouble,  so  long  only 
as  you  save  the  other  five  per  cent  and 
give  them  a  chance  to  grow  up  into 
hickory-trees. 

This  is  the  unwritten  but  binding  bar- 
gain that  is  observed  each  year.  And 
this  is  the  reason  why  there  are  hickory- 
trees  wherever  there  are  Gray  squirrels. 
Where  the  Graycoats  have  died  out  the 
[258] 


The  Story  of  a  Gra^squirrel 

hickory's  days  are  numbered.  And  fool- 
ish man,  who  slays  the  Graysquirrel  in  his 
reckless  lust  for  killing,  is  also  destroying 
the  precious  hickory-trees,  whose  timber 
is  a  mainstay  of  the  nation-feeding  agri- 
culture of  the  world.  He  is  like  the  fool 
on  a  tree  o'erhanging  the  abyss,  who  saws 
the  very  limb  on  which  depends  his  life. 


[  259 


AND  TO-DAY 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 
AND  TO-DAY 

'IS  race  still  lives  in  Jersey 
woods ;  they  have  come  back 
into  their  own.  Go  forth,  O 
wise  woodman,  if  you  would 
become  yet  wiser.  Go  in  the 
dew-time  after  rain,  when  the  down,  dry 
leaves  have  lost  their  tongues.  Go  softly 
as  you  may,  you  will  see  none  of  the  Squir- 
rel-kind, for  they  are  better  woodmen 
than  you.  But  sit  in  silence  for  half  an 
hour,  so  the  discord  of  your  coming  may 
be  forgotten. 

Then  a  little  signal,  ''Qua''  like  the 

quack  of  a  Wild-duck,  will  be  answered  by 

the  countersign,  "  Quaire  " ;  then  there  will 

be  wigwag  signal  flashes  with  silver  tail- 

[  263] 


Banner  tail 

tips.     "All's  well !"  is  the  word  they  are 

passing,  and  if  you  continue  very  discreet 

and  kind,  they  will  take  up  their  lives 

again.     The  silent  trees  will  give  up  dryad 

forms,  not  many,  not  hundreds,  not  even 

scores,  but  a  dozen  or  more,  and  they  will 

play  and  live  their  greenwood  lives  about 

you,  unafraid.     They  will  come  near,  if 

you  still  emanate  unenmity,  so  you  may 

see  clearly  the  liquid  eyes,  the  vibrant 

|ix         feelers  on  their  legs  and  lips.     And  if  these 

be  tree-top  wood-folk,  very  big  and  strong 

^■^■•\   of   their    kind,    with    silvery    coats    and 

,-..^v"       brownie  caps,  and  tails  that  are  of  mar- 

'^j\  \  vellous  length  and  fluff,  like  puffs  of  yel- 

'^'^''"'^  low  smoke  with  silver  frills  or  flashes  of  a 

(^\  white  light  about  them,  then  be  sure  of 

this,  by  virtue  of  the  sleek,  lithe  beauty 

of  their  outer  forms  and  the  quick  wood- 

»^  wisdom  of  their  little  brains  —  you  are 

..^J"/.'.  watching    a    clan    of   Bannertail's    own 

,,.^^-_/$?  T  v..  brood. 

IfV  ''M^--  [  264  ] 

#);  ^ 


The  Story  of  a  Graysquirrel 

And,  further,  rest  assured  that  when 
the  hard  nuts  fall  next  autumn-time, 
Mother  Carey  has  at  hand  a  chosen  band 
of  planters  for  her  trees,  and  a  noble  for- 
est for  another  age  will  be  planted  on 
these  hills,  timber  for  all  time. 


[265 


14  DAY  USE 

igj^l  RETURN  TO  DESK  FROM  WHICH  BORROWED 

Thb  LOAN  DEPT. 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below, 

or  on  the  date  to  which  renewed.  Renewab  only: 

Tel.  No.  642-3405 

Renewals  may  be  made  4  days  jsrior  to  date  due. 

Renewed  books  are  subject  to  immediate  recall. 


'•m 


JUL    ■- 

18Feb'57" 

REC 

FEB.. 


ED 

the 


"-'BRAf fftrnCD    APR  2  7  73 -12  PM  6  2    ^^^^  ^  ^ 

JUL  3 


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21-IOOto 


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